


「シャッターチャンスは一度だけ」 (there's only one chance to take a picture)

by roommate



Category: EXO (Band), Infinite (Band)
Genre: Crossover, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 125,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roommate/pseuds/roommate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>frame one: myungsoo resigns from red balloon and agrees to doing an exhibit with howon. frame two: he bumps into sunggyu on opening day and promises to meet up with him again sometime soon. frame three: he meets byun baekhyun, SM's rising star. and frame four… there is no frame four. baekhyun has already messed up with the shot list and, consequently, myungsoo's life. (<b>Warnings:</b> brief mentions of homophobia, rimming, gratuitous amount of drama | Written for cosmicfish for exorelieffund)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Some call it a culmination of all art endeavors. Myungsoo calls it an admission of defeat... and maybe a break from all the stress of being a slave to the whims of advertisers for five long years. It isn't much compared to the ten, fifteen years some of his officemates have devoted to being part of huge advertising productions, but then he's not trying to compete with anyone. Besides, no sane human being would ever think of working on a third batch of edits that the client won't pay for because, "C'mon, you love the brand, right? You've been working on it for years. C'mon, it's not as if turning black leggings into pink and making the talent look more 'humble' is difficult when you've already mastered Photoshop!" No sane person would attempt to pitch his new and fresh ideas on how to seamlessly integrate a product within a commercial knowing that the client will probably shoot it down 95% of the time and ask for mega branding. He learned that the hard way, in the half a decade he's spent wasting his life away with Red Balloon. It was his first job, his first time working in a production house. He promised it would be his last. On his first year, he still had hope that the hardsell way of doing ad photography was just a phase. On his second year, he'd begun to admit, bit by bit, that maybe there was no hope. On his third year, he decided to take freelance projects to help keep him sane, somehow. By the time he reached his fifth year, he'd already stopped hoping at all and just tried to make the best out of the client's subpar art directing skills. If he can't get through the clients with his fresh concepts then he can at least try to turn the client's shitty ideas from trash into gold.

He's one of those jaded production people now, too drained and strung out from work. He's at the brink of turning thirty. Old, if you ask most new and fresh advertising hopefuls, but still not a good age to get jaded just yet. He even made a time capsule on Seollal and promised never to go back to doing anything related to advertising ever again. It was that bad. He can be one of those starving freelance photographers and still be the happiest art enthusiast ever. He can be one of those poor purist art advocates and still feel contented with his life. He doesn't need money to survive.

He snorts. Runs a finger along the frame on the photograph he had blown up to 11x17. He'd cleaned the frame earlier, before the exhibit opened. He needed money to have the photo blown up. He needed money to buy a nice rubber cloth that he can also use for his other gadgets to keep them thumbprint-free. And he needed money to get from Ilsandong all the way to Gangnam because no sane person would walk from one side of the river to the other just to get to his own exhibit. So he needs money, maybe more than some people do. He needs it to support his artistic endeavors, to keep himself sane. He needs it to stay alive.

"And this is the only portrait from this particular photographer. Oh wait– It's the first in the series, my bad," he hears someone say over his shoulder. The voice sounds familiar, like a voice from one of those clips they had to clean up and edit at least five times. Or maybe one of those voices on the radio, one of the DJs he listens to on the regular, on his way to work. It's familiar enough that he recalls a distant memory when he closes his eyes, one of him loitering in the university grounds on a weekday. He'd be lugging around photography books in one arm, his camera cradled in the other. And the other man would be there to help him with his books because, 'I'm pretty scared for your camera, dude. Come on, let me help–'

"Oh, hey," Myungsoo whispers when he looks over his shoulder. He meets the man's gaze and studies the contours of his face. His eyes are still tiny, like he's always squinting and finding something interesting. His eyebrows are still thick, always furrowed. And the corners of his lips still have this tiny curl to them, like he's always poised to smile. He was born with a smiling face – yes, Myungsoo remembers saying that about this man. He also remembers the freckles the man once had back in college.

That was more than half a decade ago. He'd have forgotten if he could, but years of training to notice and remember the smallest of details has kept him from achieving that. He never forgets.

"Hey," says the other man. He takes a step closer, until the tips of their toes touch. "Didn't think you'd actually be here to entertain guests." He scratches the slope of his neck with a finger nail. Just one nail, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Myungsoo laughs to himself. Some things never change. "Not that busy right now, eh?"

Myungsoo snorts. "Not anymore," he corrects. "Quit my job a month ago. Now I'm living on food coupons and whatever freelance projects I can do." He takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders fall forward, the tension in his muscles now lifting. The man opposite him laughs, his eyes turning into slits and the subtle smile on his lips prying his mouth open. "Nice seeing you again, hyung."

Sunggyu winks. "I did promise I'd be here, right? Besides–" Sunggyu straightens out his polo. He adjusts his tie, too. He looks like some marketing slave who may or may not be a bit too in love with his job. Myungsoo can't tell yet. It's been months since they've last seen each other, maybe even years. Myungsoo can't tell. Time creeps much slower when you're trapped in a job you no longer love. "–I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He's known Sunggyu for as long as he can remember. By that, he means ever since he started playing in the playground in Anyang-si, ever since he started watching people ride the swing in the park. He was one of the 'new kids' in the park. His parents never let him play with the kids outside until he was five, and it made sense that he didn't know any of the kids here. Everyone else who'd lined up for the swing had already paired off with someone else. So he was left alone, licking his ice cream in peaceful silence until it was his turn. He had no idea then that it would feel different if he'd just 'pushed' himself instead of someone else doing it for him. So he looked, felt pretty weird just playing with himself on the swing. "Look at him!" one of the other kids said. He was pointing at Myungsoo and laughing silly. Myungsoo wouldn't surrender his ice cream to the kid even if the kid tried to wrestle it out of his hands. "He doesn't have friends!" the kid screamed. "Look, he doesn't have friends–"

And then came Sunggyu rushing to his aid, telling him, "Kid, you better finish your ice cream first. Then I'll push you in the swing, okay?"

Myungsoo did as he was told, hastily slurping the last few bits of ice cream on his cone. He broke the cone into tiny pieces for easier consumption, then slipped the tissue that he'd held the cone with in his pocket. He turned to Sunggyu, then, mouth still stuffed with crumbled pieces of the wafer cone as he said, "You can push me now!"

Once he'd come down from the high, Sunggyu told him in a small voice, "That sounded more like 'you're a douche, how?'" He'd proclaimed Sunggyu his friend the same day. He also learned what the word 'douche' meant, and swore to Sunggyu never to use it on anyone until he was a teenager.

"Hey," comes Sunggyu's voice now, jostling him out of his trance. He jerks back a little and blinks a few times. "I make time for you in my busy schedule and this is how you repay me?" Sunggyu rolls his eyes, but the smile on his lips isn't lying. There are pros and cons to having a resting smiling face. On the pros: Sunggyu always looks approachable, amiable and amicable. He rarely gets into fights.

On the cons, Myungsoo muses as he curls his fingers on the cuff of Sunggyu's polo to pull him close for a hug: It makes memories of the past all too easy to recall. It makes it difficult to flush down the overwhelming, consuming feeling of wanting to bury his face in Sunggyu's neck. It makes it nigh impossible to move on.

ミ☆

They have dinner at a food cart parked a few blocks away. Sunggyu calls it their midnight snack, but then Myungsoo only had crackers for dinner. Trying to have a proper meal was hard when he had guests to entertain and humor. So he suggested having sumptuous dinner, something really filling, at a restaurant nearby, but then everything except the convenience store was already closed by the time they'd left the exhibit. Then there was the fact that Sunggyu hated instant food. "Picky eater," Myungsoo grumbled in thoughtless retaliation. Sunggyu stuck out his tongue at him and said, "Whatever. I'm paying, anyway."

So when Myungsoo accidentally gets gochujang on his freshly laundered shirt, he blames it on Sunggyu. He shivers when he feels the heat of the liquid seep through the material, when it prickles his skin. Sunggyu offers to buy him another serving of tteokbokki and pajeon as a peace offering. Myungsoo snorts and rolls his eyes. He doesn't say no.

Fifteen minutes after and they're still there, backs pressed against the wall just a few spaces away from the cart. The lady dips a new batch of odeng into the broth and Sunggyu makes a small sound of approval at the back of his throat. Myungsoo laughs a little, then, and nudges Sunggyu in his side. Years ago, back in college, Sunggyu hated odeng because it reminded him of nothing but his wild drinking nights.

Years after and here he is, swaying from side to side to the music of the boiling of the broth, bubbles popping just as soon as they appear.

"You're so weird," Myungsoo whispers. Sunggyu cocks and eyebrow at him, so he amends, "You're so weird, hyung."

"I really missed this. It's been a while since I last had–" He licks the gochujang on his lips, the corners of his mouth, then swallows piece of tteok he'd been chewing for the past minute. "–food like this. Happy food. You'd think that working with celebrities will give you more opportunity to each yummy food, but no." He shakes his head, takes a small bite of the new tteok he'd pierced with his toothpick. "All I've been eating is potato chips. Pretty soon, I'll turn into a potato."

"A potato chip, you mean," Myungsoo replies, voice dropping to a whisper. Sunggyu catches that, though, and slaps him hard on the arm and then erupts into a peal of laughter. "See? Weird–"

"This feels a lot like college," Sunggyu whispers. He wiggles his eyebrows and shifts in his position, facing Myungsoo now. His eyes are squinted, focused, like he's trying to figure something out. Like he's looking for something – a furrow of the eyebrow, crinkles at the corners of Myungsoo's eyes because he's supposed to be laughing alone. Or maybe Myungsoo just looks funny and Sunggyu's still stuck in that moment where he's weighing the consequences of laughing at Myungsoo silly. It could mean anything. Years of knowing each other makes reading facial expressions easier, but then he hasn't seen Sunggyu in years. Sunggyu's been busy managing talents and Myungsoo's been busy making everyone look good on video and print. They've both been doing their own adult thing. Life does that to you sometimes, pushes you away from people and pushes you to your limit. He won't even take it against Sunggyu if the latter forgot when his birthday is. It's no big deal.

"You remember, right? When we'd go have lunch by a food cart when we were still in college?" Sunggyu continues. He hasn't stopped swaying from side to side yet. It's as if he's a pendulum and Myungsoo can't bring himself to look away. "I was a senior then and you were just a kid–"

And there was one other person with them, someone just as tiny as Sunggyu but whose voice made him seem so much bigger, larger than life. Myungsoo recalls that time when the Music Production students held a concert in the cafeteria. It was finals week then, and part of the finals requirement for music students was to perform in a place with crappy acoustics. Myungsoo had his fair share of plates and take home exams to work on. He was accomplishing exercises at the speed of five items a day, which was fast compared to the speed of his other coursemates. He spent all his breaks in the cafeteria, hoping to focus on his work. He even had his earphones plugged to drown out the noise, but somehow the music the bands were playing always permeated the thin shield Myungsoo had put up between the world and himself. So he did the next best thing: stay at a part of the cafeteria that the sunlight didn't quite reach.

Music would always find him, though, reach out to him in ways that he could not imagine. One hour in and he had already given into the allure of the band performing on stage. The second hour, he'd managed to cross off two items from his list of five. His worst performance yet. He could've done better without music as a distraction, Ten minutes after that, he unplugged his earphones altogether and shifted in his seat so that he was facing the stage and not his laptop.

And then the vocalist on stage looked at him straight in the eye, didn't look away until the song was over. He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. Shifted his gaze back to his laptop when the vocalist said that that was their last song and walked down the stage to walk in Myungsoo's direction.

"–and we are not talking about college, hyung," Myungsoo grumbles now, narrowing his eyes at Sunggyu. The lady at the cart calls him, saying, 'hey kid,' and he takes that as his cue to escape. "More eating, less reminiscing. Respect your food."

Sunggyu rolls his eyes in response. He sinks his teeth in another piece of tteok and doesn't say anything else.

The silence dissolves into Sunggyu bringing up a couple of his new projects. He's replacing SNSD's manager for a while, until the original one returns from his break. He's handling a new group called Red Velvet and making sure they don't get into any weird scandals at the start of their career. "And then there's this solo artist who's debuting in less than the year. I just got wind about it from the management this morning. He's as raw as far as being a 'raw talent' is concerned. The… guy who won in The Voice of Korea? Heard of him?" he continues. Myungsoo shakes his head. He hasn't had free time to do anything prior to resigning other than to breathe. Sunggyu sips a bit of the clear soup the lady gave them, free of charge. "I've met him a few times before last month, when he was still practicing with the group that debuted two years ago. He hasn't changed a bit." Sunggyu smiles little. "Some change quickly when they hear news about debuting. This guy's still… pretty 'chill' about everything."

Myungsoo just out his bottom lip. It must suck to get left behind just like that. Sunggyu doesn't seem to mind, though, rattling on about a few more things, mostly about picking up old projects. Myungsoo responds with soft laughter. "You like the constancy, alright."

"It's not bad," Sunggyu argues.

"Not saying it is," Myungsoo says in defense. "How long have you been with SM again? Ten years? Twenty?" He takes a sip of his soup and scalds his tongue. Karma in the form of a burnt tongue. It isn't fair. "Thirty?"

"Just eight. Don't exaggerate," Sunggyu mumbles. He sticks out his tongue. It burns the brightest shade of red. Myungsoo snorts at that – at least he isn't alone. "And I love my job, that's all. I get to meet a lot of good people. It pays the bills and my trips." On his first year managing SM groups, he managed to buy his parents a house. Halfway through his second year, he got himself a car. Come the end of his second year, he took the whole family on a European trip. So it more than just 'pays the bills' and his trips. His job keeps him sane and alive.

Myungsoo scoffs, laughs a little. If he could say the same for himself, then it would be great. But the reality is that resigning from his senior post at the production house is the best thing that has happened to him in the past decade. The best and most courageous thing that he has ever done, too, next to calling an idea 'stupid' in front of the client.

"You think I have a future as an SM manager, hyung?" Myungsoo asks. "Replace you when you decide to retire? I heard they're offering early retirement–"

Sunggyu seethes. "Maybe in your dreams, kid," he replies, then kicks Myungsoo in the calf. "Not in this lifetime. But–"

Sunggyu furrows his eyebrows a little, but there's none of the serious look he usually wears. He narrows at eyes at Myungsoo and all of a sudden Myungsoo feels like he's being tested, being called to the front of the class to answer a question that the professor shouldn't even be asking. He isn't even supposed to be in this class. He's supposed to be taking a cab to his place in Ilsandong, taking a quick shower and then diving into his bed face first. He's supposed to sleep in until ten in the morning, then head back to Gangnam for the second day of the exhibit in COEX. Rinse and repeat for the next five days until closing, then he'll have to fall into a new habit, develop a new routine. Pick up a new freelance project. Start living life after being dead for the past five years.

But then Sunggyu just had to drop by and drag Myungsoo out of his own exhibit for snacks by a food cart. It's like falling asleep with the tip of your felt-tip pen pressed to the paper and waking up to a nasty blot on it. Sunggyu's the wave of exhaustion hitting him smack in the middle of an exam and capitalizing on the silence, the slivers of white noise.

And Sunggyu's smiling a little now, pinching his bottom lip as he hums. After a while, he says, "Saw the portrait you included in the exhibit. The distorted one." He chuckles, then continues, "I was thinking, maybe you could work on something for SM–"

"No," Myungsoo interrupts, shaking his head. That one was a special case. He was in the park and the girl who was asking the ice cream vendor for more ice cream had the most peculiar smile. It wasn't the usual crescent or half-moon, neither was a big 'o'. It looked sort of like a box, except with unequal sides. It was so unique that he still kept his eyes on the little girl long after the ice cream vendor had given her free ice cream. So he gave into the urge to snap a picture of her, twisted his lens and zoomed out at the same time that he clicked the shutter release. The result was an image that was sort of blurred at the sides. The child's smile shone through, though, popped out in all its focused and crisp glory against the blurred background.

"But the one in the exhibit–"

"Is a special case. And it's a man-on-the-street kind of thing."

"The behind-the-scenes for the perfume brand? The one in the album you uploaded to your portfolio three days ago?"

Myungsoo snorts. Stalker, he wants to say, but that's not the answer Sunggyu's looking for. And he knows better than to bullshit the person closest to him right now both in terms of physical and emotional distance. "I needed money. Also, _behind-the-scenes._ "

"McDonald's latest print ad, then? You shot the talent against–"

"A dynamic background. We shot that in the store." Myungsoo takes a deep breath. "No studio shoots for me, hyung. I'm done with those. I won't go back there."

What he means is, I don't want to go back to that dark place. The four corners of the studio make him feel as if the whole world's closing in on him and making him focus on one thing and one thing alone. Forcing him to make that single point of focus the center of his life. It's not good practice. It's overwhelming, consuming.

And then there's the harsh studio lights exposing every single flaw in your features. White light can only be so flattering on certain types of faces. Myungsoo has proven it so many times that white light only highlights his faults all the more.

Sunggyu laughs a little and shakes his head. "It's that bad, huh? Until now?"

Myungsoo looks up from where he's been staring at his feet. He fixes his eyes on his food for a while. It's getting cold. It's safe to eat the once scorching hot tteokbokki now. He won't hurt himself anymore.

"Always," he answers, then sinks his teeth in a slice of tteok. Sunggyu tilts his head, trying to meet his gaze, then eats the last slice of fish cake on his plate. He coughs when the gochujang goes down the wrong pipe.

They eat in peaceful silence and share the last plate of tteokbeokki that Sunggyu orders from the lady. A group of drunk teenagers joins them by the stall minutes after, ordering all sorts of things – the fresh batch of odeng the lady has just finished cooking, pajeon, sundae. Goguma sticks that they also dip in gochujang. Myungsoo looks to his side and watches the teenagers eat the strange food with morbid fascination. He watches as one of the teenagers slaps his friend's arm, watches as said friend turns around and assaults the offender with tickles. They keep at their little game until the offender's back hits the wall, until the tips of their noses touch. Until they catch their breath and catch sight of each other too close.

"Teens these days," Sunggyu mumbles against the slice of tteok between his lips. Myungsoo shakes his head and steals the last piece of tteok from the plate, taking soft nibbles of it. He doesn't tear his eyes from the scene yet, even as the friend jerks back, putting space between him and the offender. Even as the teenagers nudge each other in their sides and then throw an arm around each other, one around the shoulder and the other around the waist.

From a corner of his eye, he sees Sunggyu looking at him. He doesn't meet Sunggyu's gaze and keeps watching.

ミ☆

Myungsoo steps under the spray and closes his eyes. Warm water hits his face like an old friend, cascading down his cheeks. He tilts his head even more and runs his fingers through his hair. He can still feel the upward pull on the corners of his lips from when he'd laughed too hard at one of Sunggyu's really bad jokes. He can still feel the dull ache in his ribs from where Sunggyu had hit him with his elbow. And he can still smell the scent of cooking oil and gochujang and grill at the tips of his hair. Can still taste it on his lips long after he's stopped eating.

It's been a while since he's last stayed out late for something not work-related. Granted, he'll still make profit out of selling his photos in the exhibit, but it isn't the same as spending fourteen hours in the studio doing nothing but turning the talent's yellow shirt into pink. His body feels like it's been through twelve hours of overtime, but his mind is still perfectly awake. Heck, he can go out into the streets and snap photos of whatever he finds interesting. Process it in his dark room, then frame it using one of those unused frames in his studio. Or maybe mount it on Sintra board to match style they'd used in the exhibit. Another photo to sell, something to give him more money.

He hasn't mounted a photo on his own in a while, but it's never too late to relearn old tricks. If he could pick up a camera after staying away from it for months then it should be easy tacking a photo to a sturdy board properly.

He turns the shower down a little. He reaches for his shampoo, then, and pours a generous amount into his palm. He laughs to himself, realizing that it's been a while since he actually kept track of the amount of shampoo he used on his hair. Bathing was such a robotic routine when he was still working in the studio. He could even go for days without bathing and not be grossed out by it. Now, just the thought of it makes him berate himself. He's never going down that route ever again.

He spends a good thirty minutes in the shower before stepping out. The cool air in the room hits him harder than it should, and he seethes when feels a shiver crawl down his spine. He sees his phone blinking out of the corner of his eye, but he pulls a shirt over his head first before checking what it is. Two messages, both from the same unknown number. _tnx for tonight, really had fun. super stuffed and can't sleep! i hate you :(,_ the first message says. _sorry i was using my corporate line. your favorite hyung here kekeke - sunggyu :),_ says the second.

Then his phone beeps again, just a short, shrill note that makes him shudder. He should change to something more hearing-friendly sometime. He remembers Sungjong, one of his co-workers, recommending the tone to him so that he'd never miss a text from their bosses. There's no need for that anymore, though, no need for him to be on his toes all the fucking time. He's way past that stage and is moving on to a better phase of his life.

That's one thing crossed off his bucket list. He only has three items listed. Number two reads, 'Earn my first billion before I reach thirty.' Then number three, 'Be a child again. Let loose. Move the fuck on.'

_any chance we can have lunch tomorrow? since we're on the same side of the river for the first time in a long time,_ says Sunggyu's text.

This is it, a voice at the back of his mind says. This is step one or point-five to crossing off number three on list list. All the important guests already came to the exhibit tonight, during the opening. He's already sold three of the seven photos he's showcasing in the exhibit. It wouldn't hurt to spare an hour or two to catch up with an old friend, right? Try to dig up things about the past and laugh at them instead of rolling his eyes at the mere memory? So he types, _yea sure, as long as ur paying ;),_ in reply, then drops his phone to his side so he can towel down his hair.

Sunggyu's text comes in ten minutes after, possibly typed while half-asleep. _k fin whtanevr,_ it says. Myungsoo shakes his head in response, then giggles. He buries his face in the sheets, falling forward and submitting himself to a fit of laughter.

He wakes up hours after, with a dull ache in his lower back, with sunlight tickling his skin. It's seven in the morning, thirty minutes before his alarm is set to go off. An hour before his favorite coffee shop in Sinsa opens. He stretches his arms overhead and gets up, nonetheless, relishing the push and pull of his muscles inside him, the violent upward tug on his cheeks.

Operation 'cross off all items on the bucket list' starts now.

ミ☆

Myungsoo waves at Howon over his shoulder and promises, "I'll be back!" It's half past twelve noon on his clock right now, and he promised Sunggyu he'd be at Sinsadong by one. It's a relatively quick trip from COEX to that part of Gangnam, though – a fifteen-minute walk if he decides to go by foot, a five-minute cab ride if he's feeling lazy. So really, even if he walks extra slowly or spends a good five minutes deciding on how he'll get there, he won't be late.

The elevator gives off a song 'ding!' He walks past the doors and makes his way to the main entrance. Maybe he should just take a cab. The snow is thick out here and winds are blowing hard. Maybe five years ago, he could've braved the cold weather and walked fifteen long minutes to his destination, but he's nearing thirty now. Twenty-eight, to be exact. His knees can only withstand so much in this type of weather.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He'd turned off his alert tone earlier. Maybe over lunch, he can have Sunggyu pick out a more professional-sounding yet attention-grabbing one. Maybe–

He squints hard as he reads the message that has just come in. _fuck i jammed my–_ And then it's all white space after that, static if he was on the phone with Sunggyu. His phone gives off another shrill beep, and in comes the continuation of the message. _–my foot into the vendo hit the toe really hard IM BLEDNG_

_if this is ur excuse for not wanting 2 c me then it's really bad hyung,_ he types in reply. He takes a step back, though, leaning against the cool wall feet away from the sliding doors. He looks around, then adds, _seriously tho u alright?_

It takes a while before Sunggyu replies. Five minutes, to be exact, the longest Myungsoo has had to wait for any sort of response from Sunggyu. He isn't the worrying type, but when he gets messages that have mentions of blood and getting into an accident, no matter how hilarious, he can't help but feel a bit uneasy. Sunggyu has never been the clumsy type, after all, always extra careful with what he does to the point of being so averse to spontaneity. Once, it rained so hard in the middle of spring and that threw off all their plans for the photograph club's hike. Sunggyu threw a fit, but only in the club room and away from the watchful eyes of the club members. Then after the event, once they'd gotten down from the slippery mountain, he promised to throw a party for the success of their photograph hike. "Thank you very much and thank you, destiny, for keeping us alive!" Everybody knew that it was their safety that Sunggyu wanted to celebrate, not the fact that they were still able to take shots of birds at the peak. The good photos they took were just a plus.

_yeah m alive,_ Sunggyu says via text. A heartbeat, and then another message comes in. _think you can come to sm instead? sorry bro really wanted to take you to this nice place in sinsa_

"Do I have a choice?" Myungsoo mutters. He pulls his scarf up, burying his nose in it. He blows hot air into the small cocoon he's made in an effort to keep himself warm. He looks around the area one last time before walking past the doors, leaving the mall grounds and hailing a cab for himself. He doesn't miss the familiar face on a standee for a make up brand, though, or the poster covering one whole pillar, a huge roll of paper that carries the face of an old friend.

He arrives at the SM building ten minutes and too many inches of snow after. He makes sure to give the cab driver a tip and bows to the old man before turning on his heel. Winter in Seoul is more ruthless this year, bringing more than just a few flecks of snow with it. In the short walk from where he'd been dropped off and the entrance of the building, he collects snow on his coat and his hair. When he stops midway through to brush off the flecks that have collected on his bangs, he only succeeds in getting more everywhere else. He lunges, then, covering the last few feet with a couple of steps.

He ruffles his hair, ridding it of snow completely, then turns to the security at the door. "I'm here to see Kim Sunggyu. He can't come down, though. He... injured his foot," he explains, and the man lets out a soft laugh in response.

"He mentioned having a friend come over," the man says. "Your I.D., sir?"

"No need for that," comes another voice from a few feet away. It's rough around the edges, but at the same time there a hint of sweetness to it. Like a curl at the end of his speech, a lilt in his voice that ripples through the short sentence. A bright flash of light. Overexposed.

Myungsoo squints. He blinks a few times, refocusing his vision until the features of the stranger becomes clearer in his eyes. Light brown hair, bright eyes, a grin to the side, albeit tight-lipped. Eye bags the size of craters. He can give Sunggyu a run for his money with the nasty dark circles under his eyes, but then that's not the type of competition trainees in SM Entertainment fancy. They like sing-offs, dance showdowns. High note and range challenges. Winning against another trainee in the hope that that victory can bring them one step closer to debuting.

He laughs to himself. He catches the faint stubble on the man's chin. Isn't he a bit too old to still be a trainee, though?

"Well, at least you've made my life easier by looking like a carbon copy of yourself in the pictures." The man continues. He laughs a little, walking closer and flashing a wallet-sized picture to the security like he's flashing his badge. That isn't even him in the picture – it's Myungsoo, during his younger years, a photo of him undoubtedly taken during his college years. He wore his hair like any fan of EXO would – he was sporting an undercut and had his hair dyed a bright red. Changed the color two months after to 'white gold', or whatever it was called. It was atrocious. "Kim Myungsoo, right? Sunggyu-hyung sent me to fetch you. He ordered pizza for us and made me buy ice cream as a peace offering for making you come here on short notice."

Myungsoo gulps hard and nods, still taking in the information. This man speaks too fast. His voice is so jumpy, every end of a syllable a preparation for a surprise.

"Uh, yeah, that's me," he replies. He presses his lips together, then asks, "And... you are?"

The stranger taps the bond paper-sized tag stuck to his shirt. "This is me," he answers, pointing at the characters written on it. "I'm glad they let me use my real name as my stage name, to be honest. Some people have to suffer the consequences of having a hideous stage name tacked to their shirts like this." He pinches the bond paper on his shirt, the pressure creating creases on the paper. Myungsoo feels his nose twitch, a movement so subtle that he wouldn't have caught it if the man in front of him didn't cock an eyebrow at him in response. "Though it would have been great if they let me use 'Babehyun'. Wishful thinking or something, I dunno."

"Not age-appropriate," says the security. Babehyun – Baekhyun, Myungsoo corrects in his mind – snorts at him and nudges him in his side. "You're not as young as the other trainees, kid. You can't get away with silly stage names."

"And yet you call me 'kid.'"

"And the reality is that you're still old." He drawls the last sound, like advancing in age is a bad thing. It isn't all the time. Age lends you knowledge and credibility. In some instances, the gift of foresight to avoid the lectures ending in 'I told you so'. "You've got a friend waiting here. Better take him to your leader."

Baekhyun's laughter trails off into the last 'ha' before fading out into a thick sheet of silence. Then a flash of something washes over him, turns the quirked up corners of his lips into a tight frown and pulls down at his cheeks. The light filtering from outside dwindles into freckles of sunshine just barely touching Baekhyun's cheeks. Suddenly, he looks ten years older, more worn out by the long hours than honed and made better by it. Shadows creep up from his neck to his cheeks, hollowing them out. His shoulders fall forward like a cape of fatigue has been draped on them. Myungsoo takes a step back, then, and watches Baekhyun shake it off with a shrug. And then it's gone, replaced instead with the same look he'd worn earlier – bright eyes, a tight-lipped smile. A standard idol look patented by SM Entertainment.

"We should get going," Baekhyun murmurs. He looks up at Myungsoo and gives him a small bow. "Sorry for making you wait. Come, I'll take you to where hyung is."

Myungsoo feels his eyebrows twitch. His throat goes dry. He nods in response and follows Baekhyun to the elevator, stepping in side as soon as the latter passes through the doors.

He's no stranger to the SM building. He's been here exactly three times, and on all occasions he went here for Sunggyu. The first time he went here, he was carrying a package that Sunggyu 'accidentally' had shipped to his house. He can still remember the weird look on the delivery man's face when Myungsoo opened the box in front of him to check the contents of the box. There were all sorts of toys, and not exactly the ones for kids. "Have fun, sir?" said the delivery man, then bowed before turning on his heel to dash out of the scene.

_you were lonely. thought you'd enjoy some company kekeke HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!,_ Sunggyu said via text when Myungsoo asked him about the 'present'. Myungsoo left the box with the security at the entrance and labeled the box 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM SUNGGYU. XOXO YOUR SECRET ADMIRER'. Karma hit Sunggyu ten times harder when he made the mistake of opening the box in the van while waiting for the group he was managing. He jerked back when the box toppled over and the sex toys spilled on the floor. Then he sent Myungsoo a text saying, _okay we should look for some charity we can donate these things to._

_y hyung ur not lonely?_ Myungsoo said in reply. Sunggyu's response was an an affectionate, _fuck you :D_

The other two times weren't any different, except he'd left real presents for Sunggyu's birthday that time. A book and some snacks from a company trip to Malaysia. Fridge magnets from Brazil. Some other things that he found himself buying because 'hyung might like this' or 'oh hey, _he'd_ like this'. He still buys two pairs of the same design for socks because that guy from his past loves it when they wear identical socks. It's the closest they could get to openly wearing couple clothing despite not being a 'couple'. And it was one of the harder habits to break.

"You've got snow in your hair–" Myungsoo hears now, his whole body jerking back to reality. Then he sees Baekhyun lean in reaching out to flick something off his hair.

He gulps hard. He can feel his throat tightening, his chest constricting. Baekhyun is close, a bit loo close for comfort. Close enough that he can see that Baekhyun's eyelashes are short and that he has the cutest nose, close enough that he can see the spot of red blooming on his cheek. Close enough that Baekhyun's whispered 'hah' reaches his ears, sends a shiver shown his spine. It settles on the small of his back and numbs his muscles a little.

A light stream of air that Baekhyun blows to Myungsoo's bangs, then he pulls away with an easy smile. It's no longer tight at the corners and his cheeks are no longer stiff, but his lips are still pressed thinly together like he's keeping himself from saying something. Maybe body language gives Baekhyun away and he makes up for the trouble caused by his limbs by keeping quiet. Maybe this is part of SM's training – making people think that they know the idols just by studying the way they move.

Or maybe he's just thinking too much. He's just met Baekhyun. No need to snap a picture of every single quirk of his body and study it all at once.

They reach the eighth floor not too long after. Baekhyun hums a little on their way to the practice room, bobbing his head in tiny movements in tandem with his steps. Myungsoo keeps his hands in his pockets, meanwhile, the cold finally leaving his fingertips.

The practice room is exactly how it looks like in most of SM's practice videos. There's a sky wallpaper on one side, a wall of mirrors on the other three. There isn't much in the room, just a long bench and a stereo on the floor near the socket. Sunggyu's on the bench, one leg outstretched and the other dangling from his seat. He has his eyebrows furrowed in concentration at whatever he's doing on his phone. So Myungsoo keeps his steps quiet, calculated, sneaking from behind and ignoring the way Baekhyun rolls his eyes at him.

"Really now, Candy Crush?" Myungsoo whispers into Sunggyu's ear, and Sunggyu jerks back. "After all this time?"

Sunggyu narrows his eyes at him and socks him in the gut with his elbow. Myungsoo pulls away, then, a bit remorseful, but Sunggyu doesn't let him. He reaches out for Myungsoo, balls his hand into a fist in Myungsoo's shirt and jabs Myungsoo in the arm with his free hand. Each repetition is harder than the previous, but it doesn't hurt much. At most, it leaves a dull ache in Myungsoo's muscles when he finally frees himself from Sunggyu's grip, when he gets the opportunity to move outside Sunggyu's perimeter. At worst, it numbs Sunggyu's fighting hand, makes his fingers tremble.

"Sorry for fighting you, grandpa. You started it," Myungsoo says, offering Sunggyu a pat on the back. Sunggyu shrugs his shoulders and responds with a glare, but the corners of his eyes are soft. He isn't _squinting._ He's just looking at Myungsoo like he's both apologizing and saying, 'Hey, glad you're around. Glad you could still make it despite all the shit–' "How's your toe, though? Still bleeding?"

"Everything hurts," Sunggyu groans. He gestures at his raised leg, then, and Myungsoo traces the length of Sunggyu's limb with his gaze. His big toe literally sticks out like a sore thumb, too red and imposing compared to the rest of his toes. His foot is a bit swollen, as well, the veins drawing squiggly green and red lines on his skin. Now, Myungsoo can't tell if Sunggyu had been concentrating on the game earlier or if he was concentrating on getting the pain out of his system. Complaining is the last thing he'd do, after all. It isn't in his nature.

"Vendo machine got in your way, huh? Didn't even step to the side to make way for you?"

Baekhyun scoffs. "How _rude,_ " he adds, drawling the last syllable. "Whatever have you done for it to cause you this much _misery?_ "

By now, Baekhyun's shoulders are shaking and the steady, stoic look he once had in his features has dissipated. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and then he's laughing into the press of his palm to his lips. It's as if he's trying to gather the slivers of laughter spilling from the corners of his mouth, catching them in his hand one by one. Keeping it all to himself and hiding the funny lilts in his giggles. His voice cracks somewhere along the way, and his eyes widen in accord. His eyebrows slowly lift, a gradual rise to match the way his laughter fades out into thick white noise.

Myungsoo leans a bit closer, narrowing his eyes a little to study this look. It almost the same as the one Baekhyun wore earlier, except Myungsoo could see the thin stretch of his lips then. There's one shield up now, a thicker one compared to the many other walls Baekhyun has up – the way he forces his eyes to smile, or the way he undoes the knot of his eyebrows. The way he cracks his neck until the tension in his shoulders lifts. The way Baekhyun drops his hand in front, his other hand automatically cushioning the fall. And the way it takes three blinks, each a second apart, to bring back the standard, SM-patented idol look on his face.

Myungsoo feels his throat clench. He coughs. Only then does he realize that he's been holding his breath all this time and that the pads of his fingers have begun to get cold again.

Sunggyu gives Myungsoo's leg a light nudge, nothing that requires more than the subtle bump on the elbow to his side. Myungsoo feels the wind in his lungs rise to the base of his throat, then sink back down to plummet to the pit of his stomach. This is hunger, he registers. Convinces himself. He risks a glance at Baekhyun one last time and fixes the crooked smile on his lips.

"Anyway, the food? You know I just came here for free food."

Sunggyu addresses him with a long look, then cocks his head to the side. "Over there, table by the stereo. You _can_ finish two boxes of pizza, right? Eating is no longer a foreign concept to you, yeah?"

Myungsoo chuckles. "Don't underestimate me, hyung," he replies. He walks over to where the boxes are and opens one of them. The scent of bread and meat and cheese fills his sense. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

ミ☆

What he's capable of, he realizes after splitting the last slice of pizza between himself and Baekhyun, is falling asleep mid-conversation with Sunggyu about cameras. It isn't anything serious – they weren't talking about business deals or any of Myungsoo's freelance projects, but he _did_ drift off somewhere between Sunggyu mentioning wanting to buy a DSLR, "Or maybe just a compact one? One I can bring everyday, if I wanted to." He hears a distant sliver of voice, laced with lilts and humming, and for a moment he wonders if Baekhyun's always singing his lines. Or singing with his whole body. He loves slapping the back of his hand against his other palm when driving a point or trying to state his case. He taps his foot furiously when waiting for his turn to speak, like robbing him of airtime is the greatest sin man is capable of. And he takes long and deep breaths every ten seconds, inhaling as much air as he can before releasing it slowly by exhaling through his nose.

He jerks back, hitting the wall with the back of his head. He looks behind him to check for cracks on the mirror. There aren't any. To Sunggyu, he says, "Try the 1100D. I know it's old but it gets the job done really well. I kept mine until it gave up on me 250,000 shutter clicks after."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him, looking up from what he's doing on his phone. From the music coming from the gadget, it sounds like he's just beaten a level of Candy Crush, but then there are a lot of derivatives of the game already. Like photos taken at different exposures to see which the best combination of speed and opening is. "But compact cameras only have a shutter life of 150k max. 250k is _impossible._ "

Myungsoo feels his eyebrows twitch. Sunggyu mimics the action, but it looks more like an involuntary eye tic than anything else. "Not really. If you take care of your camera then it's very much possible," Myungsoo replies. He takes a deep breath. A dull ache pounds on the back of his head and he reaches for it, massaging the sore spot. SM's mirrors are just as resilient as its trainees. "You know about shutter lives? Or cameras?"

"I know this and that. Couple of stuff." He rubs the underside of his nose, then stretches his arms overhead as he lets out a loud yawn. "Does tinkering with my friend's camera while he's not looking count?"

"Don't do that. Don't you ever so that again," Myungsoo replies, seething. "It's not good practice to fiddle with a photographer's camera without consent."

"The same goes with things _other people own,_ " Sunggyu adds, snatching the phone from Baekhyun's hands. "What did I tell you about playing– Oh, you... got me through level 178."

"You're welcome, hyung," Baekhyun says, smiling. He finishes with a wink, then pushes himself off the floor, bracing his hands on his knees. "Okay, break time's over. Gotta get back to practicing!"

"Pract–" Myungsoo turns his gaze to Sunggyu, who's wearing the most sinister grin at the moment. He shakes his head. "Of course. Practice. Good luck, kid."

"Don't call me that! I don't think you're much older than I am!" Baekhyun calls out over his shoulder. He locks his arms in front of him, stretching, then takes his place at the center of the room. Sunggyu counts to three and presses the play button, filling the room with beats of a song Myungsoo hasn't heard yet.

Baekhyun isn't the most fascinating dancer. In fact, he isn't a good dancer at all. He has a stellar voice, a peculiar tone that can grab any passerby's attention, but the coordination of his limbs isn't something to marvel at. Whatever he lacks in that department, though, he makes up for with projection. He communicates the message of his song through his hand gestures, the many different faces he wears. He furrows his eyebrows when he gets to the slower part of the song, balls his hand into a fist so tight that Myungsoo fears his entire hand will turn white. He tilts his head to soften some hard edges of the music, transforming the performance into to accommodate himself rather than the other way around. And he enunciates each letter, each syllable, each word like he means it, every slight movement of lips lending more to the meaning of the song. His song.

"You.. didn't just summon me here to have lunch, did you?" he whispers when he moves closer to Sunggyu.

Sunggyu leans back and raises an eyebrow at him, then finishes with a wink. Myungsoo laughs – to himself, _at himself_ – and thinks, there's danger in people knowing you too well. Sweet, pleasurable danger.

ミ☆

"Sorry about that," is Sunggyu's greeting when he shows up at the exhibit in the evening. He leans against the wall for support, then mumbles a soft 'thanks' when Myungsoo hold out his arm in aid. "I really– Well, I thought of shooting two birds with one stone but–"

But you'd never put me in harm's way or impose, Myungsoo wants to continue, but he doesn't. Instead, he shakes his head and slings Sunggyu's arm over his shoulder, then helps him get inside. They hobble in peaceful silence to the darker part of the exhibit, somewhere that isn't too crowded and noisy. He excuses himself to get some water for Sunggyu but Sunggyu shakes his head, wraps his fingers around Myungsoo's wrist in a tight circle. It doesn't hurt, but it does keep Myungsoo in place, keeps him in check. Reminds him of the reality that leaving Sunggyu here in to get them some refreshments is one of his more sly ways of trying to make Sunggyu forget the topic at hand.

"If you must insist, though, just get us some wine," Sunggyu says, relenting. He loosens his hold a little as if saying, if you want to go then this is it. This is your ticket. Get some fresh air. But if you decide to stay then I'll pull you down beside me for a talk.

He looks at the tight circle of Sunggyu's fingers on his skin, then looks up at Sunggyu. "I'll be quick," he mumbles, then slips out of the room.

When he returns with two glasses of wine, he finds Sunggyu massaging his calves. Walking on a twisted ankle must feel like torture, but Sunggyu makes it look so easy. He doesn't scrunch his nose when he pinches the muscles near his ankle, nor does he wince when accidentally hits the sore spot. He does take a deep and shaky breath, though, when he tries drawing a full circle with his pointed toes. "Damn, this fucking–" He chokes on his breath, then lets out a low scowl. "So yeah, it's half and half. I was hoping to introduce you to Baekhyun but I never intended for this to happen."

Myungsoo snorts. "I'd like to think you're not so much of a masochist, hyung." He swirls the liquid in his glass for a while, watching the reddish liquid dance along the shape of the glass. "Nice slippers."

Sunggyu laughs a little, nudges Myungsoo in his side. He moves closer, too, until their arms slide against each other. Static makes their clothes stick together before pulling away, as if being ripped from being a single unit. Myungsoo can feel the sizzle of the current wrap around his wrist, crawl up the back of his hands. It numbs his fingers a little. "Wanna try them?"

"That's gross."

"That's called 'sharing'."

"And that came from your injured foot. _Hyung–_ "

"Thanks for heading out today despite–" Sunggyu breathes out, a noisy and thick exhalation through the narrow parting of his lips. "–despite everything."

'Everything' means the snow, the cold weather that Myungsoo hates. The way the blowing winds make his knees go weak in the wrong ways and screw up with his balance. Back in college, when they were still part of the same organization, Sunggyu would bring an extra coat everytime they went out to shoot at the height of winter. He didn't do it for himself; it was for Myungsoo. That's how bad his relationship with cold weather was. Myungsoo would end up handing the coat back to Sunggyu, though, because he had a shittier tolerance for the cold, but there was still the knowledge that winter not only fucked up Myungsoo's body but also his mind. And that's what's important – he's known Sunggyu far longer than he's learned how to cope with winter's harsh cold, known him longer than he discovered that kisses _did_ keep the body warm.

And Myungsoo knows Sunggyu hates confrontations without alcohol to make his tongue more loose, pliant. So he says, "Just drink," knowing Sunggyu will understand, anyway.

Sunggyu chuckles. He takes a long sip, then lets out a faint 'ah' when he brings his glass down. "You two had chemistry, though. Not just the surface-level type but–" He leans forward, resting his pursed lips on the rim of the glass, then continues, "Like he's genuinely interested in you and you're okay with sparing time in your very busy schedule to figure him out, as well."

"You make photoshoots sound like a relationship."

"Aren't they?" Sunggyu asks. He takes another sip, longer than before. "The distance between the camera and the talent. The way shadows shape the talent's face and the way proper lighting transforms him into someone different. Or– Good direction from the photographer that results in a good take for the talent." He shakes his head. "Come on. Between you and me, you're the one who's spent more time mastering the craft. I'm just a casual photographer these days. I make sure kids don't shit on their career, not photograph them."

Myungsoo shrugs. Sunggyu's right: he _has_ been practicing photography longer than Sunggyu has been. In the grand scheme of things, that's what's important. Having a good camera is a plus, but without skill, experience, and the know-how of working around tight situations, you're just a picture-taker. Someone who's been given a camera and tasked to take a photograph of everything that comes off as interesting to them.

He remembers the same argument about art and design in his art theory class. He remembers, without meaning to, the way the Woohyun looked at him in the eye like he was asking, 'Do you even know what you're talking about? Calling design art with a purpose? Are you really shitting on everyone in this room?'

"I'll think about it," Myungsoo whispers. Sunggyu's eyes shoot up, finding Myungsoo's own in the dark. He lays a palm on Myungsoo's thigh and Myungsoo nods. "No promises, but if I ever think of doing studio photography again, you'll be my top of mind."

"Me or Baekhyun?"

" _You,_ " Myungsoo says, drawling his syllables. He lowers his head, almost tucking his chin, and looks at Sunggyu in the eye. "I won't even do this for my mom."

Sunggyu parts his lips. He looks like he wants to say something. A _lot_ of things. But no words come out. He can easily undo the knot of his lips to utter a sound; still, he remains just looking at Myungsoo like he's still looking for the best possible route where he can attack. Like he's still looking for Myungsoo's weakest spot so he can capitalize on it. He doesn't. Instead, he presses his lips together again and licks at the seam, then whispers, "Well, thank you. That means a lot."

"That sounds too diplomatic."

"Forgot to turn off the manger button," Sunggyu answers. He flicks an imaginary switch off, then says, "There you go. _Better._ "

Nothing much as changed. They're still in the same spot. It's still dark in this part of the exhibit hall. The noise still doesn't reach them and Myungsoo's still waiting for alcohol to hit him twice as hard as it usually does. But it doesn't. He only ever succeeds in making his muscles feel too sore and too heavy, in making his insides toss and tumble in several different directions. So he takes another sip, and another, and another, hoping for the alcohol to silence the many voices at the back of his mind.

"When can I expect a final answer?" Sunggyu asks after a while, after drinking the last bit of his wine in one big gulp.

"Don't rush me," Myungsoo replies, laughing a little. Some things take time to develop. The key to any good photograph is to wait until the color sets in, until the color is at its brightest hue. To wait until the image turns into a crisp and clear contrast of colors, forming distinguishable features and details. You can't just take it out of the developer when the image is just a collection of color clouds and dip into the stop bath, expecting it to turn out well. You can't douse it with fixative hoping that it will bring out the missing details of the picture. That's not how it works. That's not how you create a good picture.

ミ☆

_so, what do you think? :D_

Myungsoo thumbs through the message trail before returning to the most recent message Sunggyu has sent. What does he think about what, the weather? Fucking cold, but comfortable enough that he can still turn on his fan in the kitchen just to get rid of the scent of kimchi in the air when he cooks himself a simple stew. What does he think about the exhibit? It's worth the investment, both money and time. After selling his fifth photograph earlier, he's already at twice his expected ROI. If he manages to sell the remaining two photos before the exhibit ends then he can very well not take freelance for the next three months if he wants to. Provided that he doesn't buy himself something expensive and extravagant, of course. He can always put buying a car on hold, console himself by booking a flight to Europe, instead.

_he's ok,_ Myungsoo types, though. He knows very well what Sunggyu means by that message. _pretty hyper but i guess that what u guys r looking 4 in talents? idk hyung he's ok,_ he adds. He contemplates on adding more to the message, but then brevity has always been his middle name. So he sticks to this, a thesis statement then a brief explanation of why baekhyun is 'okay'. If Sunggyu wants to know more, all he has to do is to ask.

He hits send. Ten seconds after, another message comes in. _lol elaborate, you mofo,_ it says. Myungsoo groans and lets himself fall back into his bed, the comforter swallowing him whole.

Baekhyun is... okay, by most standards. He looks nice, has fluffy-looking hair and is handsome. He has these cute, squarish eyes that make him look like 80% anime character and 20% something else. He eats his words when he gets too excited (talking about taking a break, at least), but for the most part Myungsoo can understand what he says. 'Jesus F. Christ' means he's messed up the choreography for the third time in the same run. 'Oh _Christ–_ ' means his body is tired, drained, and that his spirit is probably experiencing twice as much pain. 'Thank God!' means Sunggyu has been kind enough to let him breathe for a few minutes.

"Religious kid," Myungsoo remembers himself whispering in Sunggyu's ear as he watched Baekhyun's last run of his carrier single. He has to practice another number. "He involves his god in everything that he does."

"Right," Sunggyu muttered in response. He didn't laugh, but the shaking of his shoulders and his head might as well be giving him away.

_he sings well. his dancing is pretty bad tho,_ he begins. He rubs the tip of his nose, then props himself against his arms. He goes through a catalogue of the things he's seen earlier – Baekhyun's habit of tucking his hair behind his ears, his habit of jutting out his bottom lip without meaning to. "Ah," he whispers, then types, _u have 2 do something bout those lips tho. they're super chapped. maybe u shud give him lip balm?_

_so you've been studying his face? :3_

_not d point hyung. >|_

But that's the point: it starts with that, a spark of interest and inspiration. Back in college, in art appreciation class, he met Woohyun, really learned what his name was after that concert in the cafeteria, and thought, hey. He has a pretty interesting face. He isn't that handsome but there's something so memorable about his face. _I just don't know what._ It starts with Myungsoo tracing the contours of his subject's face, the angled plane of his jaw, the way lights and shadows dance on his skin to bring out and hide some of the imperfections in his features. It always starts with Myungsoo wondering, wondering, _wondering_ which angle best suits the person, the type of treatment that will best bring out the subject's personality through. The best possible shot he can take of this person, _his subject_ , and then the hidden gems he can unravel by studying this man's face.

A high-angle shot would probably suit Baekhyun. Or maybe a close crop, straight to cam. It's hard to tell. Myungsoo hasn't studied Baekhyun's features well enough yet, doesn't know Baekhyun well enough yet for him to determine how to tell Baekhyun's story in photographs.

_ok ok. thanks for accommodating me btw. i know you're busy. go to bed, kid!_

_not a kid,_ he types in reply, not even looking at the keyboard. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to blink away the cool sensation in his irises. Then an image of Baekhyun flashes at the back of his eyelids, stencils an image right there and burns the details of his features where Myungsoo can see him clearest.

He types a smiley before hitting 'send,' then turns off the lights. When he closes his eyes, he still sees the image of Baekhyun's small, haunting smile at the back of his eyelids. It burns brightly in the dark.

ミ☆

He wakes up to the sound of his alarm blaring in his ears. For a second, he considers sleeping in, but then the snow comes down too hard and the winds rattle his windows. The noise isn't earth shattering, but it does leave him with a numbing shiver crawling down his spine, wrapping around his joints. For a second, he feels nothing but three things: the pulsing pain in his temples, his pulse at the back of his knees. The thumping in his chest set to a rhythm different from that of the one in his palms. When he feels his hands again, he reaches for his phone from wherever and types a message. _u alright there?_ he sends to Howon. He copies the same message in Sunggyu's window and just adds a 'hyung' at the end.

 _yeah m good man it's a gud thing i havent gone out yet,_ Howon says. Another text comes in, from the same sender. _might b late. snow's impossible outside._

_no worries,_ Myungsoo types in response. He looks out the window. Seoul looks like a vast expanse of white from where he is. _stay warm._

Snow storms are hard to come by in a place so far down south such as Seoul, but they do happen from time to time. Some stretch for hours, _days,_ but the one that hits the city today subsides after two to three hours. Myungsoo has already had his breakfast by then and has started reheating the clear soup he'd made earlier. Malls are supposed to be open at this hour and he'd usually be on the road, but it's still impossible to navigate the streets. News networks have been showing them nothing but footages of roads covered in a foot of snow. Some, even two to three feet of it. No sane person would ever think of going out at a time like this.

No sane person who has something to eat, at least. He's running low on instant food in his cabinets and in the fridge. He should stock up in case the situation gets worse.

He doesn't leave his flat until he hears the weather forecaster giving a go to motorists, saying that roads are passable to heavy vehicles, "But light vehicles shouldn't risk it. As always, keep an eye on the road and drive safely!" Luckily, the closest convenience store is just a block away from his condotel, five minutes of careful walking and looking around for people who might need help staying on two feet. He goes through a shopping list in his head as soon as he gets there, grabbing one of the baskets close to the entrance. Five packs of the mild Jin Ramyun, one yellow radish. He's running low on kim, as well, so he grabs three packs of the big sheet and slips it behind the ramyun packs so that it won't get folded. In the beverages section, he takes five bottles of banana uyuu and then one stawberry milkis. A few steps to his right, and he reaches the shelves for the alcohol.

"Just Jinro?" he mumbles, narrowing his eyes at the 'selection'. Chamisul is his default soju brand and, on some days, Chum-Churum, but both brands are nowhere to be seen on the shelf. There isn't any Lotte alcohol here, for that matter. Grunting, he grabs a bottle of Jinro and one Hite. He makes a detour halfway through his hoarding in the toiletries section, though, hoping to find the brand of soju he had back in Jeju-do.

He's already crouched by the shelf, his half-full basket pressed to his side, when he feels someone poke his shoulder. It's a light one, too light that he almost misses it, but there's no mistaking the presence of a shadow over his shoulder. He twists his torso, then, scanning the figure from his feet up. Black winter boots, tattered jeans that should never be allowed in public especially at the height of winter. A loose, plaid polo and something that looks a lot like a black coat slung on his shoulder. Myungsoo lifts his gaze further up until he sees the details of the man's face – chapped lips, a small mole just above his upper lip. A nose too red that he might give Rudolph a run for his money. Bright eyes, and a small upward tug on the corners of his lips.

Myungsoo laughs to himself. He must be dreaming.

"There's Hallasan at the far back, if that's what you're looking for," comes a familiar voice. Myungsoo blinks a few more times, unmoved, but he can feel his insides turning. "Or were you looking for Chamisul? In that case, I... got the last bottle. Sorry!"

He gives Baekhyun one last look before reaching for the last bottle of Hallasan at the far back. It's strange to be seeing Baekhyun outside the SM building, clothed in something more colorful than the baggy white top and black pants he wore yesterday in the practice room. The patterns on his polo breathe a bit of life to him, but the tattered pants make Myungsoo grimace. It's minus two degrees outside; only someone stupid would wear something like that in this weather. "Better double up on the pants," he says, then, picking himself up again. He presses his hands to his knees as he straightens up. His thighs feel like they're on fire. Fuck old age. "If I were winter, I'd play a prank on you that you'll regret."

"Is that some new pick up like or an expression of intent to get into my pants?"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him. This startles laughter out of Baekhyun, albeit soft. His lips part just a little, revealing more cracks on his skin. Lip balm, his mind registers, and he holds one hand up before dashing to the toiletries section, tossing a stick into the basket Baekhyun is holding by his arm. "You're welcome."

"Oh yeah, thanks. Sunggyu-hyung mentioned last night that–" Baekhyun touches his lips, thumb pressing down on the gentle swell at the bottom and his index finger brushing back and forth the expanse of skin. "Is it really that bad? I mean, it's not as if I have to be ready to be kissed anytime, right?"

You can never be too sure, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he answers, "You're an idol. You'll get photographed a lot. You can't walk on the street with chapped lips. It doesn't look nice."

Baekhyun shrugs. "Who cares?" he mumbles, but keeps running his finger along his lips anyway.

Baekhyun is silent for the remainder of their stay in the convenience store. Myungsoo lets him go first in line, and he gives him a little bow in response. He takes out a handful of things from his basket – cans of Hite, one bottle of Chamisul, too many bags of chips to last him until end of next week, some wipes and tissue paper. "Oh yeah, the lip balm," he mutters under his breath before dropping the basket to his side, then places it on the conveyor belt. Myungsoo's eyes are drawn to his slender fingers, then, the chip on the nail of his pinky and his thumb. Remnants of scars on the back of his hand, two long lines stretching from his knuckles down to his wrist.

Baekhyun has a tiny wrist, he muses. It makes his entire hand, the length of his fingers seem so daunting. Like if Myungsoo places his fist on the belt and urged Baekhyun to wrap his fingers around his fist, Baekhyun can swallow his hand with the warm press of his palm to the back of Myungsoo's hand.

You can be a watch model someday, Myungsoo wants to tell him. If his singing career doesn't kick off, modeling can always be his fallback. He knows a lot of artists whose careers have been salvaged by their wide range of endorsements. Kim Heechul isn't the most popular host but his shampoo and skin endorsements keep him in the top 10 most sought after artists of the decade. Lee Jinki's singing career took a nose dive after coming out of his surgery sounding different, but he got his second acting offer after helping Kia rise back to the ranks with his Sorrento endorsement.

"Stop staring at my nails," Baekhyun mumbles. Myungsoo looks up at the sound of Baekhyun's voice, tears his gaze from the stretch of Baekhyun's fingers and fixes his gaze on Baekhyun's face, instead. "You love doing that, don't you? Staring, I mean."

Myungsoo laughs a little. Sunggyu said the same thing about his before, except he hadn't sounded so creeped out. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows even more, the groove on his forehead etching itself harder on his skin. It's not a nice look on him. He's only known Baekhyun for twenty four hours, though; it's too early to tell. He needs to study Baekhyun's features more.

"Not really staring. I'd call it 'studying'. It's... part of my training as a photographer."

"Well, you don't have a camera right now. No need to get into work mode or anything." Baekhyun finishes with a wink, the contorted expression on his face easing into something more relaxed. Schooled and practiced, but made more natural by months of training. He wiggles his eyebrows then turns back to the lady at the cashier, settling the payment. When he looks back at Myungsoo, his eyes are squinted like _he's_ the one doing the studying, the observing. The staring.

This look, Myungsoo files as at the back of his mind as a Baekhyun look. This isn't one of those standard idol looks SM has made its artists wear through the years. It looks more candid, spontaneous. More… _Baekhyun._ "Hey, relax," Baekhyun says, then, and nudges him in his side. "Your stare's too cold. Rigid." He shakes his head. "We don't need that in here. It's already cold, as it is."

"Right," Myungsoo replies, nodding once. He turns to look to his side, marveling at the scene before him. The sheet of snow is thinner now, but still well above six inches. The winds that helped melt the snow earlier have ceased to blow. The glass doors are no longer shaking. If he was the one in tattered pants then he definitely wouldn't have made it to the convenience store alive after that five-minute walk.

He takes a deep breath. He can feel the pads of his fingers getting cold. He wiggles his fingers in his gloves, then, and digs them in the pockets of his coat. "Sorry. Force of habit," he mumbles, but lets his eyes gaze the tips of Baekhyun's fingers, taking in the details on his hands – the crack on the nail of his index finger, the gloss on his thumb nail and the middle nail. Once Baekhyun has finished stuffing the receipt in the pocket of his tattered pants, Myungsoo takes his place beside the cashier and unloads the items from his basket.

Baekhyun sticks around until Myungsoo's done paying for his own haul. "Choco Pie, huh," Myungsoo even hears him whisper, but when he looks to his side he only finds Baekhyun busying himself with his phone. His eyebrows are knit in concentration, much like the look that Sunggyu fashioned when Myungsoo arrived at SM's practice room. Myungsoo cranes his neck, then, trying to see what Baekhyun is doing, but he only catches a glimpse of black text on white background. Some boxes that look like banner ads when Baekhyun scrolls further down– _No,_ those aren't banner ads. Those are–

"Cool pictures, by the way," Baekhyun says. He looks up from his phone, meeting Myungsoo's gaze. "I don't doubt Sunggyu-hyung but he can get a bit too soft at times. He's right, though – you _are_ amazing."

"Hardly," Myungsoo whispers in reply. A small voice inside him giggles. He pushes that back, down his throat until he can no longer feel the soft tickling sensation in his throat. He bows to the lady, then, collecting his change and turning on his heel to face Baekhyun again. "Heading back now?"

"Probably," Baekhyun says, whistling. He looks outside the door, then looks back at Myungsoo with a worried look. "Not. Probably not. I just hitched a ride with my friend, that's how I got here. I mean, I said I needed to restock our fridge and this place was the only thing that had food. Everywhere else is sold out." He scratches the slope of his neck with a nail, just one. "I wouldn't have made it alive if I… walked to this store–"

"In those tattered pants," Myungsoo finishes. He laughs a little. "They–"

"Are a bad idea, I know." Baekhyun rubs the tip of his nose this time. It only makes it even more red. At least it breathes a bit of color into Baekhyun's otherwise pale features. Winter paints him a sickly glow, almost a lifeless one. "It was the first thing I managed to grab when I realized I had to restock my fridge. My track pants are still in the laundry, so–"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow just a little, enough to earn a few seconds of silence. Baekhyun's lips part a little, then, falling opening into a tiny 'o', and then he's chuckling. His shoulder give a funny shake, almost like he's dancing, but he's rooted to his spot. He's shaking his head and rolling his eyes like the realization has just hit him: he's been talking too much. He's letting the cold air inside his system. He's wearing _tattered pants after the snow storm._ There are people behind them, raring to leave.

Myungsoo reaches out, then, tugging on the hem of Baekhyun's shirt until he gets it. Baekhyun inches closer in response, body giving a tiny jerk in realization. He takes one step forward to the two steps to the side Myungsoo takes. And then another, until they're a few good feet away from the cashier. It creates enough room for people to slip past, use as an exit, but the two of them are still nowhere near the door. They might as well be stuck here until the storm hits again. The weather forecaster warned about it.

"So you're staying here until you find a ride home?"

"I'm staying here until–" Baekhyun fishes for his phone in this pocket, checking for something. "Until my friend gets back from his romantic excursion with his boyfriend or something. Coffee date, blah blah–"

"My place is–"

Is not where you're supposed to be, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. You don't just invite a person you've know for only a day and then some to your flat because you ran into each other in a convenience store. You don't just give someone a free pass to your life _and then_ give him a return ticket in case he decides to bail out at the very last minute. That's not how it works. There's a reason why you take photos at different exposure settings, testing how a scene would come out on paper when you expose it secrets using light – to be safe. There's at least one shot there that's bound to come out great. You don't just take one shot at something without checking your exposure and hope your moment of spontaneity gets communicated well in a photograph.

But it's snowing outside. COEX is closed and he has nothing to do after leaving behind his old life as a slave to media and advertising. His photos are sitting in the dark exhibit area and he's miles away, watching a moving picture tilt its head and furrow its eyebrows right in front of his eyes. It's the perfect time to test out a new camera, take a few shots. It's the perfect time to get trigger-happy and just shoot away.

"–it's just five minutes away," Myungsoo finishes after a while. He swallows hard at the same time that Baekhyun lets out a faint 'oh'. He feels his throat constricting for a moment and then it's gone, replaced instead by a cool sensation. "I won't mind having you over. You _are_ Sunggyu-hyung's kid, after all."

Baekhyun snorts. The surprise on his face dissipates, turning into something different when he narrows his eyes at Myungsoo. "I'm not a kid. For all we know, I'm older than–"

Three honks outside the convenience store and Baekhyun looks up, as if the vacant space in his chest has just been filled with air. His face grows pale, though, and his eyes widen even more as another honk blares in their ears. Baekhyun looks to his side, then, and Myungsoo follows his gaze. There's a car pulled over just a few feet away from the door, window pulled down. There's a small guy inside waving at Baekhyun and mouthing 'come on, I don't have all day'. And then Baekhyun's brushing past Myungsoo, their shoulders bumping. The contact is electric, sending a sharp jolt up his arm that numbs Myungsoo's senses for a while. And then Baekhyun's looking over his shoulder, looking at Myungsoo, and the blood comes rushing back to Myungsoo's toes.

"Sorry, I'm– That's my ride," he mutters, bowing a little, and then he's swinging the doors open, walking past the doors and rushing to the car, his legs buried calf-deep into the snow.

Baekhyun gives him one last wave, then pinches the driver's cheek as a greeting. And then they're driving away, slow and careful as any responsible driver would be.

Myungsoo keeps his eyes on the retreating figure, dropping his gaze to his feet only when the car disappears around the block. "Bye," he finds himself whispering under his breath. When he looks to his right, he finds his hand raised to eye level, swaying from left to right in a slow, steady motion, a mirror image of what Baekhyun had done just minutes ago.

ミ☆

_ur kid bought lip balm today. u can xpect good things–_

Myungsoo stops midway through typing, thumb hovering the next character but leaning more towards the backspace button. There's no good reason to text Sunggyu about it, but then there's no reason to hide it as well. For all he knows, Sunggyu might even thank him for making sure that Baekhyun isn't torturing his lips. It's for a good cause, he tells himself, reminds himself as the voice at the back of his mind harps at him. He's just letting Sunggyu know that Baekhyun's taking care of himself, grabbing a couple of bottles of alcohol for himself. Wearing tattered pants in the height of winter, too, when it's torture to head out without a coat. Yep, all for a good cause.

He stares at the message he's drafted a little longer and shakes his head. He presses down on the backspace button and watches as the cursor swallows the rest of the text, until all he's left with is a blank space.

He spends the rest of the day unearthing some of his old negatives that he'd shuffled to his filing cabinet years ago. The envelop carries all sorts of things – pictures of Sunggyu's face too close to the camera, pictures of the sky. These are from one of those hikes at Seoraksan during autumn. Pictures of someone frolicking on the sand and looking at Myungsoo, lips pulled up in a grin. Pictures of the same man looking at the camera, straight at the lens, wearing the prettiest smile that black and white simply cannot do justice.

He takes a deep breath, then slips the strip of negative back into its holder. He turns off the lightbox, then, and grabs a coat, his phone, a couple of bills from his coin purse that he stuffs in his wallet eventually. He shuts the door behind him and makes sure to lock it before disappearing around the corridor. Pulling his hat over his ears, he shuffles to the elevator and thinks to himself, it's been a while since he's last done this.

It's been a while since he's stepped out of his flat out of the blue to just walk along the entire stretch of his block, taking pictures of all sorts of things.

It's been a while since he's stopped thinking about taking the best, the _perfect_ shot and just had fun.

ミ☆

He wakes up at five in the morning with a tiny jerk. He looks all around, squinting hard in an effort to help his eyes adjust to the darkness. He can make out the faint flecks of snow just beyond the window, some lights from the cars two streets from his block. The news on TV, as well – he must have left it on last night while he was drying his hair. The weather's supposed to be tame today, so it's business as usual for everyone. That means having to travel all the way from Ilsandong to COEX to try to sell the last two photos before the exhibit ends.

One photo a day doesn't sound so daunting. It shouldn't be too hard to sell those. But the more he looks at the photos, the more he realizes one thing – abstract photos can only communicate so much that photos of people easily can. And it makes the chances of selling those last two pieces slimmer.

He shrugs. Turns over so he can bury his face in his pillows and breathe out warm air in big puffs. If he ever falls asleep, there's always his alarm to wake him up at seven. There's no need to rush.

He's up again fifteen minutes after, when he feels his stomach grumble. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, then, and gingerly starts the stove. Cooking anything more than fried eggs and fish in the morning requires more effort than the usual, but with winter seeping through his walls and crawling up his ankles he's left with no choice but to cook soup or stew. He fishes for a fresh bottle of kimchi from his fridge, then, some ground pork and kim. He tosses some of the leftover chopped onions and leeks into the pan, then adds a generous amount of kimchi to the mix. Once he sees the juice seep from the white stalks of the kimchi, he adds the kimchi juice from the container, then adds some water.

He stops short before sprinkling some salt on the brewing stew. He recalls cooking an insane amount of kimchi jjigae for a big group before, back in college for the photography club. Sunggyu was busy with cooking the spinach and keeping watch over the seaweed soup. Meanwhile, he was in charge of making sure Woohyun didn't add too much chili flakes to the already-spicy jjigae they're cooking. "You're supposed to be adding pork, not chili," he remembers telling Woohyun, and Woohyun only responded with a coy smile, a wink, and two hands on his waist.

He jerks back a little and stares at the bright red stew glaring at him. He's been a fan of kimchi jjigae even before he met Woohyun. He's tasted his first bowl of it from his mother, not in college. This doesn't have to be about Woohyun.

The stew comes to a boil ten minutes after, and that's when he tosses in the ground pork. He keeps his eyes on the expanse of red and flushes out all the other colors fighting for his attention at the back of his eyelids, drowning out the sound of a distinct voice in his ears.

He sets out on his commute to COEX at nine, giving him enough time to take a leisurely walk to the station without having to think about the long line of people. Heavy snow, albeit not as serious a situation as that of yesterday's, means less students on the streets, less people to battle with for a seat in the subway. Korea's train system is one of the most efficient in the world, but when you're fighting for a piece of space with ten percent of the population even the people with the most immaculate of patience can snap. The train isn't as packed as it should be, though, filled mostly with office workers and maybe some shoppers. He keeps his earphones plugged throughout the trip, bobbing his head to a few songs that he remembers from his childhood.

Sunggyu's a big fan of Nell, everyone knows that. The biggest secret, though, is that Sunggyu is an even bigger fan of the *NYSNC and Backstreet Boys. Or any boyband in that era, to be honest. One time, Myungsoo walked in on Sunggyu belting out 'Invisible Man' while using a mop as his microphone. Luckily, the other club members were nowhere to be seen.

That is, to date, still his biggest blackmail material for Sunggyu. He plays the video on his phone whenever he needs a good laugh.

_hey hyung a1 came on and i just thot, maybe ud sound great singing she doesnt see me,_ he texts Sunggyu before the train comes to a halt. He slips his phone in his back pocket, then lets himself be carried by the tide of people taking the same exit as he is.

If COEX already looks like a maze during store hours, it looks even more imposing and intimidating with only some lights turned on. He presses on, though, navigating to the third floor and crouching at the base of the escalator before beginning his climb. When he arrives at the exhibit area, the doors are no longer locked and there's a small slab of wood keeping them from shutting closed. He slips inside, then, trying to make as very little noise as possible so as to not startle who's inside.

"You're early," he calls out, craning his neck to get a better look at Howon. Howon waves over his shoulder, steadying the frame he's holding before turning around. "Storm didn't hit your area that hard?"

"Well, we weren't spared but at least we didn't get snowed in. Southerner perks," Howon replies, winking.

Myungsoo rolls his eyes at that, and Howon responds by slinging an arm over his shoulder. Ruffles his hair, too, before laughing-cackling right in his ear in a tone so bright Myungsoo feels his ears pop. He looks around for an audience. It's just the two of them, just two old officemates who have finally raised the white flag and said to themselves, 'Y'know what? I'm gonna stop earning a living in this hellhole and start living.' Howon was one of those few people in the production house who truly understood his reason behind picking up his suitcases, too heavy with all the years he's spent in the company. One of those few people who knew when to drape a jacket over Myungsoo's shoulder, too, during overtime, and when to poke him in his side to jolt him awake. They were alike in a lot of ways: both passionate about photography, except Howon's fascination was more on the photo manipulation side of things. Being in production helped him hone his skills, yes, but when you're made to take out pimples on a person's face on a daily basis and turn a model who looks otherwise 'basic' – client's words, not theirs – into a superstar, it gets trite and tiring. Draining.

"Day four, man. We're almost at the finish line." Howon gives his arm a light squeeze. He leans his head against Myungsoo's then whispers, "Who'd have thought, huh?"

"I always saw our resignation coming. It's normal, just so you know."

"Smartass," Howon groans. He pinches Myungsoo in his side with his free hand and keeps one arm around his shoulder. "I got a call from the guy who bought your painting. The one from the first day of the exhibit." He coughs a little and Myungsoo snakes an arm around his waist on instinct. Myungsoo runs a hand up and down his back until the coughing subsides. "He asked if the portrait of the kid with the funny smile has already been bought. I said no. Then he said, and I quote, 'Who would even overlook such a wonderful photograph? Can I... get it for the same price as the first one I got?'"

Myungsoo leans back a little, cocking an eyebrow at Howon in accord. "You're shitting me, right? Who'd want to own three photos of the same photographer?"

"You've got yourself a fan, bud," Howon teases. He winks, then pulls away just before Myungsoo socks him in the gut with his elbow. "He wants to get the last photo, as well!"

The conversation lasts until they're done fixing the guestbook and arranging the chairs at the cocktails area. Myungsoo takes a step back from his side of the panel, gandering at his photos mounted on the wall. He scans them from left to right, from the one with the least amount of detail to the most detailed. There's only one photograph left unmarked, a tight shot of a big toe touching the surface of water enough to create ripples. There are leaves on the surface, also riding the small waves, and their tips create a bit of a dissonance to the ripples. They make the composition look great, though, and undeniably Myungsoo. All his pictures are dotted with a couple of leaves, usually near the corners. A pseudo foliage, that's what he calls it. Something to mark the end of the frame, or something to remind people of Myungsoo's existence. Photographs are an extension of a photographer's soul, after all. Each snapshot has a piece of the photographer in it, no matter how big or small.

He presses a sticker to the edge of the frame of the photo with the child in it. He laughs to himself and thinks, there are people who would willingly overlook a photo that's sticking out of the crop like a sore thumb. The most apparent things are the easiest things to ignore, after all.

ミ☆

Howon _insists_ that they go out for dinner after the exhibit. He doesn't have a reason to say no: the roads are no longer slippery and are now safe. He doesn't have laundry to do at home, no tennis match to catch on TV. The Davis Cup is long over, after all; it isn't until mid January that the matches will start pouring in again. Winter is for catching up with friends, for slowing down. It freezes your schedule and makes space for other things you otherwise won't find yourself doing if it was summer or spring or autumn.

"Pork or beef?" Howon asks, menu balanced on his open palms.

Myungsoo worries his bottom lip. Beef is good but sirloin is an ass to cook, requires too much effort and all of your attention or else you'll end up burnt meat. So he answers, "Pork," then snatches the menu from Howon. He runs his index finger down the drink list, then turns to the waitress taking their orders. "And one bottle of Chamisul, please."

"Fine, you win," Howon groans. Under the table, he kicks Myungsoo's foot. Myungsoo only furrows his eyebrows in response. When the waitress finally leaves, he asks, "So, how are things with Sunggyu-hyung, by the way?"

"What do you mean 'how are things with hyung'?" Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at Howon and leans back, trying to get a better look at Howon's features. His lips are pressed to a thin line, bottom lip jutted out in a pout. His eyes are squinted, too, as if he's trying to see better, more clearly. The lighting in this part of the place isn't that great, after all; they can't take risks. Then Howon starts drumming his fingers on the table, a rhythm so weird and dissonant that Myungsoo doesn't even bother trying to make sense of it.

"Well, he's alive," Myungsoo replies after a while. He scratches the slope of his neck with a nail, just one, then takes a deep breath. "His foot's better now, I guess. He jammed it into a vending machine a few days back. Don't even ask me how – he makes the strangest accidents possible."

Howon snorts. "And he called you first for help, yeah?"

"We were supposed to meet up for lunch. Of course, he'd contact me first."

Howon gives him a long look, then rolls his. "Suit yourself, bud." He takes a long sip of his ice-cold water, then repeats, "Suit yourself."

Myungsoo holds his gaze a little longer, until the waitress arrives with slabs of pork. She turns on the grill and out comes smoke, white wisps that seep into Myungsoo's eyes and make him wince.

The thing about his friendship with Sunggyu is that they've known each other for far too long already that it's almost impossible for _something_ to happen. Sunggyu has watched him grow up, has seen him graduate from diapers to real underwear and then boxers. Sunggyu has been in every important occasion in his life – all four graduations and every wedding anniversary of his parents. Sunggyu only stopped appearing at the Kim family's doorstep in Anyang-si when his workload began to eat him up alive. Or maybe it was Myungsoo who got gobbled up by work, who stopped staying home long enough to see Sunggyu visit his parents. Sunggyu treated Myungsoo's parents as if they were his own, especially when after losing his own parents to a tragic car crash. Myungsoo can still remember the look on Sunggyu's face then, on the last day of the wake – eyes sullen, the corners of his lips drawn to a straight, straight line. Cheeks pulled down even as he said, "I'm happy for them. I'm glad they can finally get some rest."

Unknown to some: Sunggyu took his hand after that and laced their fingers together. He kept his eyes on the link of their hands for the longest time, like he was trying to etch a message on the back of Myungsoo's hand. "You won't leave me, right?" Sunggyu asked, eyes glimmering with _something_ Myungsoo couldn't pinpoint. There was a small smile on his lips, breathing a bit of color into his cheeks. His skin was flushed, warm. _Welcoming._

"Of course," Myungsoo answered, then leaned closer to place a soft kiss to Sunggyu's forehead. He closed his eyes before snaking his free arm around Sunggyu to pull him closer. He felt Sunggyu's quickening pulse on his palm, heard the hitch in Sunggyu's breath. When Sunggyu pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, he shut his eyes tight even more and counted to ten.

"It's just garlic," Howon says now, the last syllable drowning in the noise around them. He gestures at browning cloves on the grill, the burnt edges glaring at Myungsoo. Taking the tongs, Myungsoo flips them over and tosses some meat into the grill. "You were staring at it like one of those weird project briefs we got back then." A hiccup, then, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Myungsoo mutters without a second thought. He adds some kimchi, too, and keeps an eye on the meat. He doesn't let them turn to crisp.

Everything's alright.

ミ☆

There were rumors before, of Sunggyu confessing to the student council that he had the biggest, most long-enduring crush on Myungsoo. Myungsoo heard all sorts of things about it – Sunggyu was drunk as fuck and he was so red in the face. He was on his third bottle of soju (questionable; Sunggyu's never gotten past his first bottle) when he'd declared, in a tiny voice, "So fine, maybe I do like my best friend. _So what?_ " For a moment, everyone thought it was Woohyun because the two were practically joined at the hip. They were in the same clubs, were always seen hanging out during breaks. They even had a super secret handshake that made their friendship look cliquey as fuck. And then Sunggyu said, "And maybe he's dense but how can you not fall for someone you've been taking care of since he was a fucking kid?"

"Nope. Impossible," Myungsoo still said. He high-fived with Sunggyu when they saw each other at the cafeteria. He didn't miss the look of relief in Sunggyu's features as they sat beside each other and ate in companionable silence. He didn't miss the glimmer in Sunggyu's eyes when Myungsoo broached the topic of Motion City Soundtrack's latest release and offered him an earbud, either.

Myungsoo shakes his head now as he waves at Howon over his shoulder. He waits for his friend to drive off, craning his neck as he watches the cab disappear into a corner.

He digs his hands deep in his pockets and shivers in the cold. When no cab passes the area for the next five minutes, he walks to the next block in the hope of finding his ride home.

7-11's bright signage becomes his beacon as he walks along the path, taking careful steps to help his aching knees. He's never been a fan of the cold, but if he wants to get home then he has to brave this weather and hope that hailing a cab near the main road will be more fruitful. He looks to his left and his right, then, before moving closer to the gutter and inching away from the curb. He isn't like one those assholes who'd hail a cab and keep other cars from turning corners.

One more step forward, then the figure just a few feet away from him becomes much clearer. "Oh, _come on._ You've got to be kidding me," he mumbles. He takes a deep breath then says, in a louder voice, "So who's following whom?"

The figure in the shadows looks up. "Probably you," he says, voice lilting somewhere towards the middle. He shakes his head and steps out of the dark, walking closer to the lamp post at their midpoint. "Seriously, though. You again?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. He regrets it soon after, feeling the cool air crawl up his nostrils and make him grow cold inside. COEX isn't exactly a quick walk from SM Entertainment, but when you're one of SM's talents set to debut in a few months then you'll take every chance you get to go around. Experience freedom while you still can. It's understandable – Myungsoo was feeling so trapped and tied down to his job before he made the decision to resign. So it shouldn't be a surprise to see Baekhyun in this area, to run into him for the second day in a row, but it is. Of all the people he has to bump into, it has to be the same man who's a walking reminder of Sunggyu's business offer and the chance of a lifetime that Myungsoo is yet to decide on.

"I came from my exhibit," Myungsoo explains. He sniffles a bit, then shivers. Baekhyun lets out a small sliver of laughter, then presses the back of his hand to his lips like it's just caught up to him – the fact that they're practically strangers, that they met just three days ago. The fact that they're seeing each other again near a convenience store, but this time in a cool winter night instead of in the morning.

The snow is still bright and blinding, though. The glimmer in Baekhyun's eyes, even more. Myungsoo shakes that thought away and asks, "You? Done with practice?"

Baekhyun snorts. He drops his hand to his side, then pulls his bonnet over his ears. "Nah. I was given an hour-long break, though. Thought I'd go somewhere _sorta_ far away where I couldn't see the SM building even if I tried really hard."

Myungsoo's eyebrows twitch. A corner of Baekhyun's lips tugs up in response, like sympathy is a funny feeling in this situation. Maybe to someone who's been programmed to perform like it was his last day on stage every single time, it is. "Is it that bad? The training program, I mean."

"I wouldn't say it's bad. It's just–" Baekhyun worries his bottom lip. He fumbles with the hem of his shirt. Sunggyu wouldn't want that. Baekhyun can't afford to look nervous in front of a stranger who's sort of an acquaintance. He's being trained to feel invincible and unstoppable, not incapable of expressing himself. "Ah, what's a nice term for it..."

"No need to filter your words," Myungsoo assures. "It's just me."

"That's the thing: it's you," Baekhyun whispers. For a moment, Myungsoo swears he sees Baekhyun's eyes widen, but it's gone in a blink of an eye. Instead, he finds Baekhyun clasping his hands in front of him. "It's just not for the feint of heart, SM's training program. You'll learn a lot from it, sure, but the thing you see people idols go through in the entertainment company features on TV? That's true. Some trainees stay in the building for days living only on coffee and instant noodles. Sleep is... sort of a reward that you have to earn."

"That's–" Crazy, Myungsoo wants to say, but he knows better than to shoot someone's dream down. Instead, he goes with, "Tough. How do you manage?"

"I don't now," Baekhyun whispers. He drops his gaze to his feet, then looks up at Myungsoo to ask, "Would you do the same if you were in my shoes?"

If he were much younger then he probably would, but at the ripe age of 28 there's no telling if you'll even get to debut. Every year, the starting age of idol life becomes younger and younger. If, before, the industry wouldn't even dare have trainees under 18 debut, now almost every company has a fourteen-year-old working for them on stage. And the fans like that. These younger generation of fans likes seeing someone of the same age as they are pour their heart and soul into a dance, a song, _a performance_ because it makes them feel that they can achieve great things. That they only need to work hard enough to be able to reach their dreams. None of that shit about luck. Success if 90% hard work, after all.

Myungsoo laughs to himself. If only he had the same foolish positivity as that of kids. Age both ripens and _over-ripens_ you. So he says to Baekhyun, "I might give it a shot, but I... won't hope so much?" He scratches the underside of his jaw, then continues, "But I'll keep doing what I can to reach my goal. No harm in trying, after all."

Baekhyun scoffs. "Wish I had your positivity. Age makes you–"

"Wiser and more of a Smart Alec," Myungsoo continues. Baekhyun's cheeks tug up, coaxing a smile onto his mouth, but he doesn't pry his lips open for a grin. "How old are you?"

Baekhyun hums, swaying his head from side to side. "Not old enough for Sunggyu-hyung to call _me_ hyung, but old enough to be understandably jaded with life."

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. "And old enough to play mind games with people." He nods, slow and deliberate, as Baekhyun does a small curtsy in front of him. "Well played, Baekhyun. Well played–"

He never gets to utter Baekhyun's name again because the next thing he knows, Baekhyun's losing balance and falling to his left. He reaches over, then, wrapping his fingers around Baekhyun's wrist to keep him from falling all the way down. He pulls him closer, into his arms and hopefully back to his feet, but to no avail – the ground is covered with snow and thin sheets of ice. It's slippery out here, and they weren't careful enough to keep themselves from falling.

"Fuck–" Baekhyun groans, massaging his ankles, but the low sound of distaste fades as soon as he sees Myungsoo on the ground, half of his face buried in the snow and the other half frozen into a frown. Baekhyun leans forward, hand reaching out, and for a moment Myungsoo thinks Baekhyun's about to return the favor and help him get up, but no. Wrong again, Myungsoo, he tells himself. Baekhyun's shoulders give a violent shake and, soon, slivers of giggles slip from his lips, tiny hiccups of laughter that grow louder with each passing moment. In a second, he's brushing away the beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. In two seconds, he lets out a loud cackle. In three seconds, he loses it, throwing his head back in a fit of laughter that leaves his chest heaving.

Myungsoo looks at Baekhyun, really looks at him, and notices the slow-forming smile on his lips turning into a wicked grin, his lips finally parting open to reveal more of the bright sound and his rich tone. So he keeps his eyes on Baekhyun, traces the shape of Baekhyun's mouth with his gaze and takes in the funny shape it forms when Baekhyun lets out the most raucous of sounds.

In four seconds, he loses the feeling in his fingers.

In five seconds, he loses all the air in his lungs and fills it with the sound of Baekhyun's voice, instead.

ミ☆

"Easy now– Okay, there you go."

Myungsoo unwraps his fingers from his tight hold on Baekhyun's waist and helps him get up the the first flight of stairs at the entrance. Hobbling to the next block to catch a cab earlier was already torture, as it was, but climbing even the shortest flight of stairs is more of a test. Baekhyun struggles to keep himself on his feet, but he manages to press his free hand flat on the wall for support. The security meets them halfway, but shoots them a funny look before helping Baekhyun get back to solid ground. "You need crutches, kid?" he asks, then, and cocks his head in the direction of a door to their right. "You want me to take you to the clinic?"

"Nah, I'm good. I just–" He juts out his hip, trying to signal something, but all Myungsoo gets from it is the curve of Baekhyun's body. It's a nice slope. Baekhyun has such a tiny waist but such broad shoulders and– "Hey sec, can you call Sunggyu-hyung? Eighth floor, practice room 8D. The one at the far back? Wait, he _is_ still here, right?"

"Does he ever go home?"

Baekhyun snorts. "Point." He groans, then takes a deep breath. To the security, he says, "Just... yeah, please call hyung. Tell him someone from his past wants to see him."

Funny you should say that, Myungsoo wants to say. Sunggyu's past is anything but a smooth and easy path, but it isn't as twisted as that of Myungsoo's. Or maybe it is. Sunggyu's just good at hiding things, keeping them under the thin veil of a commercial smile and a light shake of the hand. If being civil and nice to everyone warranted a master's degree then Sunggyu would have it. Maybe even a PhD for it. For all he knows, Sunggyu might have met Baekhyun during college and had just chosen to keep Baekhyun a secret from him.

Myungsoo snorts. Sunggyu's a shitty liar. He rules that out, then, and tells Baekhyun, "I'll do it."

He fishes for his phone from his pocket, then pulls up Sunggyu's contact card. Baekhyun reaches out, gripping him by the wrist. He lifts his gaze from his phone, then, looking to his side to meet Baekhyun's eyes. "You don't have to do this. I've already caused you enough trouble– I mean, you were supposed to be on your way home and–"

"And you couldn't even walk three steps. You couldn't even get into the cab unaided." Myungsoo tucks his chin, then raises an eyebrow at Baekhyun. "It's okay. It's just a call. Hyung might even be happy to know that I know how to use my phone to call people."

Baekhyun laughs a little, but his lips remain pressed thinly together. Where's the bright laughter, Myungsoo wants to ask. He doesn't. Instead, he presses the call button and presses his phone close to his ear. To Baekhyun, he says, "Take a seat. You'll want to look sort of okay once hyung gets here."

"Hyung's gonna kill me, I just know it," Baekhyun whispers just loud enough for Myungsoo to hear.

Myungsoo shakes his head. "He's a hardworker. He'll torture you before killing you," he counters, then laughs at his own joke. You'd think years of being friends makes you immune to laughing at your jokes about someone you know so well, but it doesn't. It only gives you more reason to laugh and fool around with your friend.

Sunggyu's Nell ringtone blares on the other end of the line, then fades out into silence. A few beeps, and then Myungsoo hears a familiar voice on the other end of the line. It almost feels like coming home.

"Hey, hyung. Myungsoo here. Yeah, I'm–" He laughs a little. "I'm alive, not frozen. Completely thawed out and– Say, hyung, remember your Christmas present from three years ago? The thing you thought I'd enjoy?" Sunggyu makes some strange garbled sound on the other end of the line that sounds a lot like a 'mhmmyeah?'. He takes that as a sign to go on, clearing his throat before continuing, "I'm giving it back."

"Yah, you already returned the toys–" Sunggyu argues. "Did I give you anything else?"

"Hyung, _the present._ Four years ago." The number makes a difference. It's too late in the evening to be playing games but it isn't everyday that he gets to screw with Sunggyu's mind. "I turned it down but I kept finding it at my doorstep. I'm giving it back."

"Oh shit," Baekhyun groans. Myungsoo looks up from staring at his shoes, then fixes his gaze on Baekhyun. Baekhyun scrunches his nose and frowns, bottom lip jutted out. There's a small cut there, a short line of red that produces an even bigger crack just a few centimeters big. There's a hint of pink at the corners of his mouth, like lip balm had accumulated on them. He isn't pale from the cold, but he looks more pained than ever. Myungsoo looks away but doesn't miss Baekhyun mumbling, "I forgot to buy him some strawberry milkis."

He covers the mouthpiece and whispers to Baekhyun, "I have one in my bag, still unopened."

"No shit. You do? How–"

I always grab a bottle from the convenience store _just in case,_ he wants to say. Baekhyun doesn't need to know that. "Just get it before he– _Right,_ there you go. Took you a while to figure that out. Yeah, I'm at the ground floor. I'll see you."

On the other end of the line, Myungsoo hears the door shut tight. He hears Sunggyu's low exhale, as well, his light humming. The song sounds familiar, sounds as if it's from a few years back.

"He's not injured, right?"

"You'll have to find that out for yourself."

"But he's alive?"

Myungsoo casts a glance at Baekhyun who's picking at the lock of Myungsoo's bag. Baekhyun looks up at him and mouths, 'there's a fucking combination!' Myungsoo counts with his fingers, and Baekhyun inputs the numbers he gets from the message. Off comes the lock and out goes the strawberry milkis. And then there it is, the soft smile on Baekhyun's lips and a glimmer in Baekhyun's eyes.

"He is," Myungsoo says with confidence. He hears the dull 'ding' of the elevator on the other end of the line. "He's alive."

Sunggyu doesn't throw a fit when he sees Baekhyun with one leg rested on a monoblock chair, but he does snort. "You're taking this whole idolizing thing to a new level, kid. Matching injuries, really? Well fine, they're not exactly matching injuries but _come on,_ " Sunggyu tells Baekhyun, then reaches out to ruffle his hair. Baekhyun leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed and the corners of his lips curling up into a smile. He scratches his cheek with the side of his balled fist, and for a moment Myungsoo thinks, Baekhyun looks like a fucking puppy. Even the way he hums then looks up at Sunggyu with adoring eyes makes him look like a lost pup. It's two parts annoying and one part adorable.

"He said you'll torture me before killing me because I did this to my foot. Will you?" Baekhyun asks. He cocks his head in Myungsoo's direction and Sunggyu lifts his gaze. "I know you're a kindhearted master and you'll _never_ harm poor puppies like me–"

Well _fuck,_ he thinks he's a puppy, Myungsoo groans in his mind. Baekhyun might just be one of the most obnoxious talents Sunggyu has ever handled. He'd kick Baekhyun in the calf if he could, but he's always believed in treating animals just like people – with care and love, but from a distance. So he imagines himself socking Baekhyun, instead, the image of the scenario so clear in his mind that he laughs at his own fantasy.

"He's right," Sunggyu admits. To Myungsoo, he says, "You didn't have to let him know that, though. Would've been better if he got hit by something he'd never see coming."

Baekhyun shifts his gaze between the two of them, them gives Sunggyu a light punch on the arm. "You're siding with _him?_ But I'm your talent! You gave birth to me!"

"Let's not go there," Sunggyu says, voice low and syllables drawn out. He's using his teacher voice, one he's always used when he was trying to make the new members of the photography club realize that, 'it's not in the camera; it's in the person handling it. Don't blame your camera for your lack of skill.' It's also the same voice he'd used to tell Myungsoo that, 'Your relationship with him isn't healthy anymore, Soo. You've got to let him go.'

Maybe it's the same voice he'd use if he ever walked up to Myungsoo to say something else, to talk about a matter they've long been pushing aside. _Maybe–_

"It's getting pretty cold here, you know," Myungsoo mutters. He gestures in the direction of the doors, then says, "Either we go inside or I leave now and we disperse because my job is done."

Baekhyun lets slip a soft 'oh' from his lips, but the subtle lift of his eyebrows say a different thing. It's almost as if he's asking, questioning Myungsoo, 'so I'm just a package you'll drop off, is that it? After all that we've been through?' It sounds hilarious. In the forty-eight, seventy-two hours that they've known each other, Myungsoo has discovered more things about Baekhyun than he did with Woohyun in the first month that he sat in the same class as Woohyun.

_Stop_. Don't go there. We are _not_ going there, he tells himself. He shuns the voice at the back of his mind, silencing it. Instead, he focuses on the _now,_ fixing his eyes on Baekhyun and the shape of his mouth.

"Aren't you injured as well?" Baekhyun asks. He nods in Myungsoo's direction, then drops his gaze to Myungsoo's torn jeans. "Right... there?"

From a corner of his eye, Myungsoo sees Sunggyu cock an eyebrow at him. "Unlike you, I can walk without anyone's help." He looks to his side, then turning to Sunggyu to say, "I'll go ahead, hyung. Might not be able to catch any cabs at this hour. Man, I never thought it would be this hard to get a cab here at Gangnam–"

"I can take you home," Sunggyu interrupts, then rests a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder. He gives it a squeeze, just hard enough to make Sunggyu's veins at the back of his hand shift but not hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "SM has a shuttle service for artists and since Baekhyunnie's debuting in a few months, he can use it already. I think your house is on the way. You still live in Ilsan, right?"

Myungsoo gulps hard. There's no reason for him to say no, no logical reason for him to turn down the offer. Taking the shuttle service means he can sleep on his ride home without having to worry about being taken to some far-off place. Less expenses, too, because a trip across the river isn't exactly the most inexpensive of commutes. On one hand, that means having to wait for Baekhyun's session to finish. Sunggyu isn't as heartless as he makes himself out to be, but if Myungsoo's knowledge of Baekhyun is anything to go by then he's sure Baekhyun will volunteer to do two rounds of vocal practice to make up for the trouble he's caused.

Be practical, he tells himself. The mall doesn't open until 10 a.m., anyway. He has time.

"Yeah, still in Ilsan." He worries his bottom lip, then says, "If it's okay with you. I mean, what if the company doesn't want non-SM people to use the van and–"

"I'll take care of it," is all that Sunggyu says before giving his arm a light squeeze. He finishes with a wink, then helps Baekhyun get up from where he's seated.

Myungsoo takes it as his cue to take Baekhyun's other side, draping Baekhyun's other arm on his shoulder and sliding his own arm around Baekhyun's waist. Such a small waist, Myungsoo muses, and for a moment he wonders how it would feel to hold Baekhyun by the waist with his own hands, how it would feel to wrap both of his arms around Baekhyun to pull him close to his chest. There's no reason for him to do that, though, no good excuse, so he pushes that thought to the back of his mind and focuses on what needs to be done. They have to get to the clinic and have Baekhyun receive treatment. Sunggyu needs to call the driver. And Myungsoo has to wait with bated breath as Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his fists in tandem with the tiny whimpers he lets out as Baekhyun gets his injury treated.

Myungsoo replays the image of Baekhyun cackling with reckless abandon on the snow in his mind and clings onto that happy image. It's the same thought that eases the tension in his muscles and stills the heavy thumping of his pulse at the base of his throat.

ミ☆

_thanks 4 d ride,_ he texts Sunggyu. In another message thread, he says, _hope your foot's better. stay safe. - kim myungsoo_

He collapses on his bed face first, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. His wet hair sticks to the sides of his face, leaving lines of water on his cheeks, and he shivers when he feels the cool air seep into his skin. The air conditioning isn't turned on that high but taking a warm shower always leaves him more vulnerable to cool winds. It also lulls him to sleep faster than the usual, like a blanket of just the right amount of warmth pulling him to bed and wrapping around him like a quilt.

He wrestles his hand out of being tucked between his tummy and the mattress. His phone's there, too, a cool metal presence sticking to his skin. He still hasn't sent the other message, the cursor still blinking at the end of the gray message bubble. He turns over, then, lying on his back and squinting so he can read what he's typed better. There are a few strange words there now, probably characters he mistakenly typed while trying to wrestle with fatigue and laziness to lie in bed properly.

He deletes the whole thing, retypes the message, then deletes it again. After a while, he settles with _feel better soon. have a safe trip,_ then slips his phone beneath the pillow overhead.

Baekhyun was silent company in the van earlier, after Sunggyu got off somewhere in Yeouido. He was talking a lot before that, asking Sunggyu for a review of his last two vocal sessions before they called it a day. "I think I went flat somewhere but I could've been just hearing things," Baekhyun said, and Sunggyu rolled his eyes at him in response. "Seriously, hyung, I _have_ to know if I screwed something up. How will I improve if you're not there to call me out on my shit?"

Valid point, Myungsoo remembers himself thinking back then. Sometimes there are mistakes in what you're doing that you won't be able to see because you're so attached to it already, so saturated with the tiny details of your work that you'll just gloss over them and not notice the slight change in key, the missed step in the routine. The weird object that's in the composition because your hands might have shaken while you were taking the picture. These small things that can be improved make a lot of difference. Sometimes, they're the make-or-break things that can put you, your career, your _craft,_ at risk.

"You sounded great. You _sound_ great," Myungsoo remembers saying then. Baekhyun turned to him with wide eyes and cocked eyebrows. His lips were pursed. His bottom lip was chapped. Myungsoo allowed himself to study the curve of Baekhyun's mouth a little longer before meeting Baekhyun's gaze. Baekhyun seemed to understand and fished for his lip balm from deep in his pocket. Sunggyu let out a tiny sound of surprise. After a while, Myungsoo continued, "Though I'm not sure if you should be doing so many runs for the bridge. You can keep it clean-sounding and simple and it will still be as effective. Too many curls to your voice will strain your vocal chords. You wouldn't want to do that, not when you sing for a living."

Baekhyun's shoulders rose in tandem with the sharp, noisy breath he inhale through his nose. He scrunched it a little and held his breath, then exhaled while asking, "You know stuff about singing?"

Myungsoo recalls laughing and snorting. Doesn't recall his heart pounding in his chest, but now that he goes back to that exact moment in time when they passed an intersecting car and the headlights lit up Baekhyun's features, he can feel the thrumming in his chest. It's a low thrum, subtle enough that he can ignore it if he wants to and just swallow it down. He can feel it at the back of his throat, though, at the base of his neck. It's a steady pulse, a reminder of how the harsh lights softened up the angled planes of Baekhyun's cheeks, how it lifted the dark circles under Baekhyun's eyes and made his eyes glimmer. How Baekhyun fought the shit-eating grin tugging up at the corners of his mouth and pressed the back of his hand to his lips.

"I have a friend who sings," he answered after a while. Sunggyu craned his neck, meeting Myungsoo's gaze a few feet away. Sunggyu leaned back into his seat, slumping against the cushion. "I guess you can say I've learned a thing or two from him."

"That makes sense," Baekhyun said. He sat on his hands and swayed from side to side. When they reached another red light, he asked, "So should I take out the curls in the bridge completely or just lessen them? _Or_ move them to the end where I sing a capella?"

"Try both?"

"You wanna hear how it sounds?"

Myungsoo parted his lips for a moment, then shut them closed after a while. "Fire away," Myungsoo said, and Baekhyun started singing. Only ten minutes after, once he was satisfied with his refined version of his song, did he stop and mumble a small sound of gratitude to Myungsoo. And then, as if he didn't know whether the choked 'thanks' was enough, he sat next to Myungsoo and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

Baekhyun fell asleep after that, his left temple digging into Myungsoo's shoulder whenever he leaned that way in his sleep. So Myungsoo snaked an arm around Baekhyun and slid his hand further up until he could guide Baekhyun's head to his shoulder. Baekhyun hummed a little in response, then moved even closer. The vibrations tickled his skin. Baekhyun's full weight on his shoulder didn't hurt much, but the press of Baekhyun's hand on his thigh did. It left an imprint on his pants just shallow enough that he could even out the surface again by running his hand on that sore area,

When the driver woke Myungsoo up to say that they've reached his stop, Myungsoo had to gingerly pry himself from Baekhyun's hold. "Rest well, kid," he whispered, then pulled away. He shut the door behind him quickly, even before he could think of looking back.

He reaches for a small pillow now, the closest to him, and tucks his chin on it. When his phone gives another beep, he reaches for it but doesn't read the message. Instead, he pulls up his message thread with Howon and texts, _wat do u do wen nightmares keep haunting u_

_is this a trick question?? :o,_ Howon replies. A few seconds after, another message comes in, _well i heard changing sleeping positions helps. or talking it out. uknow that thing about telling people about your dreamsnightmares so they don't–_ Another beep, another message, this one saying, _dreams/nightmares so they don't become real? sorry hit the send button by accident :c_

_wait bro nightmares don't haunt people. wtf are you talking about._

_lol it was good until the last text,_ Myungsoo replies. _go to bed, wise man. c u tmr we open at 11 ryt? not 10?_

_right-o!_ Howon replies, then signs off with a plethora of stickers. Myungsoo replies with a sticker of a panda tucked in bed and some text above his head.

The panda looks so peaceful in his sleep. If only the same can happen to him.

He's prepared to turn off the lights and call it a night when he hears his phone beep again, two short notes in succession. He reaches for his phone, then, and checks his messages – three unread ones, one from Sunggyu and two from Baekhyun.

_just saw this, sorry. get some rest. and thanks for calling baekhyun out on the curls thing. told him that before but he kept saying i was too exposed to the style already that maybe i just wanted him to try something new FOR A CHANGE,_ Sunggyu says. The next line has a series of emojis and exclamation points. At the very end, a sign off saying, _btw HE called me yesterday, asked for your number. said he saw you the other day in ilsan with a 'kid' in plaid polo? is there anything you want to tell me?!?! O__O_

Myungsoo shakes his head and shuts his eyes tight. He lets his fingers operate on auto-pilot, typing a reply that he hopes will appease Sunggyu. _lol let's talk abt that next time. too sleepy. gnight hyung chu._

_gross. go to bed. good night,_ Sunggyu says in reply. _btw don't forget, coffee on saturday. my treat because i can't summon you without bribing you. GOOD NIGHT!!!_

"Good night," he whispers under his breath. He moves to the next message, fingers trembling in the cold as he clicks on Baekhyun's name. "Oh, _wow._ " 

He runs his thumb along the box confining Baekhyun's message to a tiny space. _tnx for the concrit. rly helpful. gonna keep those in mind for tomorrow's practice. hwaiting, me!! aja!!_ It sounds exactly like Baekhyun, like if Baekhyun's speech was ever translated into a text message or anything written, _this would be it._ No need for a safety recording or anything. Just one take. It's like one of those scenes that Myungsoo has shot for countless times already that he knows the right expose setting for them. Daylight white balance for offices with warm lights, f 3.5 for the shutter opening and 1/80 for the speed. Cloudy for overcast skies, then a combination of f 8 and 1/125 to 1/250 for the speed depending on the type of effect he's trying to achieve. Sometimes it isn't all about adhering to the perfect colors for a picture – no greens in the skin tone, no blues and yellows on white surfaces. You also have to keep in mind the 'feel' of the photo you're gunning for. Should it be warm and candid? High fashion and a bit muted? How about dreamy or otherworldly? It's important to know your goal when taking photos.

If Baekhyun were a photographer, his style would probably be aiming for dark hues, bright reds turning into maroons and yellows turning into ochre. An off-center shot. A soft black vignette to frame the subject.

If Baekhyun were the model – Myungsoo's model – then– Myungsoo isn't quite sure yet of what will work best for Baekhyun. All he knows is that he wants to see that bright smile again where Baekhyun looks as if laughter has taken control of every fiber of his being. He wants to hear Baekhyun's laughter through the photos at the risk of overexposure. He wants to see more of that smile so he can frame it in his mind before the lights – before Baekhyun's idol life – washes out his natural smile and replaces it with something calculated and practice. Templated.

_also ur welcome to watch my practices anytime :) sunggyu-hyung already said yes. you can be my shadow mentor kekeke :3_

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes, but only succeeds in pricking his irises with his still cold bangs. He blows at his hair, then, and types up a quick reply before turning off his phone.

_glad 2 help. good luck w idol life. i'll try to be around whenever i can._

Baekhyun's reply comes in only two seconds after. _kekeke looking forward to it ;)_

ミ☆

"And that's it," Howon says. He locks the door, then plays with the keyring with his index finger. "Too fast, man. Too fast. Didn't even feel that exhibit coming to an end."

Myungsoo shrugs and slings an arm around Howon's shoulder. Those three months of preparation already felt like a breeze; the actual exhibit felt like a gust of wind, lifting everything it touches off the ground and then putting them back down. He felt like a man with a purpose, a superhero trying to spark change in his city when they were ironing out the details of the exhibit, contacting the right people for the best possible exhibit ever. He felt like man on a mission the whole time they had their photographs up, or maybe a teacher trying to make people see the other side of the mundane. And now... he feels like a happy kid on Christmas day. He sold all his photographs and all the buyers are set to pay him next week. There's no reason to not feel like a person who's finally experiencing Christmas in a warm house after spending it on the streets his whole life.

"Let's do another?" Myungsoo asks, laughing. Howon leans back a little, then socks him in his side with his elbow. " _Hey,_ it's just a suggestion. Not forcing anything on you."

"You are. It's too good a suggestion to refuse," Howon grumbles. He laughs, just the same, then rests his head on Myungsoo's own. "The preps were hell but _the satisfaction–_ " He lets out a breathy sigh, then hums as he ends. Myungsoo looks to his side, taking in the smile on Howon's lips. He's always had such a boyish smile, the type that got girls in high school into trouble and got women in the workplace is a pretty tight situation. On one Valentine's Day at Red Balloon, Howon got three boxes of chocolates that all said, _BE MINE???_ He wasn't a fan of sweets, though, so he ended up giving two boxes – the heart-shaped ones – to Myungsoo.

"It stands for 'love yah'," Myungsoo recalls Howon saying. The long and heavy sigh from over his shoulder was too loud to go unnoticed. "Or maybe, 'marry me.'"

"Easy, boy. I'd appreciate a proper proposal. A ring would be nice."

Howon looked around and saw a tiny donut nearby. He picked it up and held it in front of Myungsoo's face, saying, "Will you be my donut buddy?" His face was so stern, so serious that if Myungsoo didn't know Howon was interested in the accounts executive handling Oreo who they got to work with a few months ago then he'd think that Howon was 50% serious. He nodded in response, nonetheless, and let out choked out a sob. Howon split the donut between them and announced, "You may now eat the donut."

"How about another next quarter? Or... sometime in spring?" Howon suggests now. He wiggles his eyebrows at Myungsoo. "What d'you think? Sounds exciting, yeah?"

"Weren't you planning to finally ask out Soojung after convincing her to join your comic book club?" Myungsoo asks, sticking out his tongue just a little as he ends. Howon narrows his eyes at him and growls. "I'm just reminding you about your schedule. You can hire me to be your assistant, bro. 'Myungsoo-yah, can you help me pick out an outfit for my date?' 'Myungsooo, help me, she's so pretty!'" His voice cracks at the last one as he shifts to a much higher register. Howon pulls away to slap him hard on his arm, but he presses on. "'Myungsoo-yah, which do you think will she like better? Roses or peonies–'" And then he loses it, laughter consuming him and tickling his insides so hard that his stomach lurches without a care in the world.

Howon grumbles, then kicks him in the calf. Casting one last look at the locked exhibit room, he slings his bag over his shoulder and turns on his heel. He grabs Myungsoo by the back of his shirt and pulls him along, not even looking over his shoulder to address Myungsoo's fit of laughter. When they do get on the lift, though, he whispers, "Peonies. She likes peonies best. They're her favorite."

Myungsoo coughs in lieu of losing himself to laughter again, the clears his throat to ease the tickling sensation inside him. "You asked her?" he begins, then, and tilts his head to the side as he continues, "You _asked her out?_ "

"Well I didn't– I just–" Howon sucks in his bottom lip and closes his eyes. "She went to the exhibit the night you left pretty early and she saw my photo of the peonies and–"

_The light you left pretty early–_ Howon means two nights ago, when his mind stopped functioning at ten in the evening and after selling his last photograph. He'd just closed the deal with the client and phone wouldn't stop buzzing in his pocket. So he fished for his phone and took the call from some unregistered number. Turned out it was Baekhyun using his 'corporate line' or whoever else's number, asking if he could come over to give feedback on his singing. "Of course, I'd understand if you're busy–" He wasn't. He was simply going around, entertaining some of Howon's guests whose names escaped him. He could make out Woohyun's face from a few feet away, but it could've been just him seeing things. Fatigue does that to you, fucks up with your vision and causes you to fuck up.

He shook his head then and said, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Eighth floor, right?"

"–I mean, really, I know you have a lot on your plate so _hold up–_ " Baekhyun hummed. A beat then he recovered, saying, "Yeah, eighth floor. Same old room. The one at the far back. And it's still Officer Lu who's on duty so you shouldn't have trouble getting inside."

And he didn't. The security recognized him at once, but still tried getting in touch with Sunggyu to ask if he asked Myungsoo to come over. On a different phone conversation, Sunggyu said, "Hey Soo, I'm really sorry but I think my boy's taken a liking to you. He thinks you're some expert on music–" He cleared his throat, then continued, this time in a more faint voice, "–and you are, but he doesn't have to know that because he'll just _bug_ you about it–"

"It's fine. I was bored out of my wits, anyway," he reasoned. A bow to Officer Lu, and then, "Oh, you sent Baekhyun to pick me up."

Before him, Baekhyun shook his head. "He didn't. I just heard you two talking so I sort of snuck out and–"

"Bring him back here," Sunggyu groaned.

"Roger," Myungsoo said, laughing a little. Still, he let Baekhyun guide him to the practice room at the eighth floor.

His phone buzzes in his pocket now, when they step out of the elevator. He digs one hand in his pocket and whips it out. Two messages, one from Baekhyun and the other from Sunggyu. Baekhyun's says, _practice might end earlier than expected... if ur still in coex it's probs better to not go to sm anymore?_ There are no smileys, but there's a hint of the lilt Baekhyun's voice always carries around with him in the text.

_he's kidding. he wants you to come over because he perfected the thing you asked him to do just minutes ago. looool,_ says Sunggyu's message. Another beep, and a green message bubble pops up. _and i'm sort of craving some street food... wanna go to hongdae after this? weekend night life for the oldies? haha_

_but ur kid's coming along with us,_ he replies. From a corner of his eye, he sees Howon give him a funny look. "It's just Sunggyu-hyung and his kid," he explains. Howon shrugs, bottom lip jutted out but one corner of his tugged up in a small, small smile. Kind of like he isn't so sure of how to feel yet, or isn't sure how Myungsoo is feeling. Maybe it's both. "They're asking if I can go to SM and give the new talent feedback or something. I dunno. Some pseudo trainer kind of thing."

"So that's where you disappeared to the other night," Howon singsongs. He bumps his hip into Myungsoo's, then says, "I must say, that's a really lame excuse to get you to travel to SM. I expected more from Sunggyu-hyung, I really did."

"It's... not an excuse," Myungsoo mumbles. He checks his phone again when it beeps. A message from Baekhyun this time, saying, _DON'T LISTEN TO SUNGGYU-HYUNG HE IS THE WORST._ He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing, but to no avail: the pull at the corners of his lips is too strong. His chest feels so full, it might burst anytime if he keeps everything inside much longer. So he lets out soft chuckles, each three seconds apart, measured so as to not startle Howon. "They really need my help. Besides, it's my fault; I offered the kid feedback even if he wasn't asking for it."

Howon furrows his eyebrows in question. "The kid? Wait, I missed the part where the whole going to SM thing isn't just about Sunggyu-hyung. What kid? Is he–" He inches away, leaning back. "This isn't about Woohyun, is it?"

It could be about Woohyun. He and Baekhyun have a couple of similarities. They both have interesting faces. They both have expressive eyes. They both sing well, but they sound different. Woohyun's voice is soulful, deep, leaves you with a dull ache in your chest that you won't even see coming. Baekhyun's, meanwhile, isn't the type of voice you'd easily fall in love with. He sounds good, can perform all these neat tricks with his voice, but he's not as polished in singing as Woohyun is. And it's the same thing that makes him sound so unique – there's a distinct tone, a subtle gravel to his voice that gives it a wonderful texture. There's a small crack in his voice that makes it sound so raw and untouched. That makes him sound so human. It's difficult to communicate vulnerability in songs when you've already memorized your material like the back of your hand. It's difficult to sing like you mean it when you _have_ to maintain distance from the message of the song else you break down in front of your audience, your _fans._

So it isn't about Woohyun. It's about Baekhyun and his inability to let a tiny mistake go until he resolves it. It's about Baekhyun who he's only known for a few days – for only a week – but whose singing voice and face he has already memorized. Not to the last detail, but he knows Baekhyun's features well enough that if he ever got lost in them, while studying the cracks on his lips, he can find his way back. He can pull away and focus his eyes on the mole above Baekhyun's lip, instead, and dig his hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep himself from reaching out to touch it.

"Nah, it's– Sunggyu-hyung's been assigned a new talent. The one SM's debuting after Red Velvet." Myungsoo types a quick reply to Baekhyun, saying, _il b there gna catch a cab soon._ His phone beeps again not too long after, but he doesn't pull up the new message. Instead, he stuffs his phone back in his pocket. Howon's eyes are still on him, focused and assessing.

Myungsoo shivers a little. This is why he hates it when the cameras are turned to him. When the studio lights are all turned on and set at maximum brightness, washing him out against the while background, he feels as if he's been cut wide open, dissected in front of everyone. Howon's stare prickles his skin, makes his insides toss and turn. He tries to swallow around the sinking sensation but it's too overwhelming, _consuming._ "He's... pretty amusing. Sings really well. I might be convinced to be a fan if his debut stage turns out amazing."

Howon hums. He squints then nods, slow and deliberate, almost as if he's finally digesting all the information and has formed his own conclusion on things. Maybe he has. Howon has always been quick on the uptake, after all. "A fan, huh? That's it?"

"That's it." That should be it. "What else should I do? Build a fansite for him or something?"

Howon snorts. He shakes his head, then rolls his eyes. "Come on, let's get you a cab. You have two boys waiting for you at SM. You better not make them wait forever." A heartbeat, then, "You wouldn't want to make them wait."

Myungsoo heaves a sigh. He can easily tell them both that he's tired from the egress, from cleaning up the exhibit hall and making sure that everything's in order. This isn't part of his program, after all. But what's a little disruption to his schedule. What's a bit of dissonance to the sound? What's a bit of camera shake when you're using digital and can easily take another shot at taking the perfect shot?

ミ☆

It's the fourth time in the past week that he's been to the SM building. If he had to, he'd already be able to navigate the halls of the eighth floor with his eyes closed. He doesn't, though. He keeps his eyes wide open in case he ever runs into an immovable object, in case he loses the feeling in his knees. Even the most careful of people jam their foot into a vending machine, after all; who's to stop an alien to this company from falling prey to the same thing?

He knocks on the door thrice, then presses his ear to the door. When he hears the music die down, he twists the knob and says, "Hi."

The first thing that greets him is Baekhyun's lopsided smile and his hair sticking to his face. His foot isn't bandaged anymore, which probably means he was practicing his routine for his carrier single earlier. "Didn't think you'd make it. We're... just wrapping up," Baekhyun says, then lets out a loud exhale. His forehead is glistening with sweat and his cheeks are flushed in exertion. The lone pimple on his cheek has bloomed into twins, the new red spot just a few inches away from where the first is. "Down to the last few rounds now. I can do two more runs of the ballad we... I mean the one I was working on. It sounds ten times better now." He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then wipes it on his track pants.

Disgusting, Myungsoo muses, but proof of hard work. He's done the same thing before, only his legacy to his camera is sweat stains on the screen below the viewfinder. It's gross and unsanitary but seeing marks there makes him think that hey, the photos I take are literally a product of sweat and tears. It's a twisted psychology that he's come to learn from Sunggyu. "I _did_ promise I'd come, right?"

"And you haven't broken a promise yet," Sunggyu says. He walks over to where Myungsoo is and holds up his hand for a high-five. "Keep it up, kid."

"Not a kid, hyung," Myungsoo mumbles, but he inches closer and clashes his hand against Sunggyu's own. Their fingers find a nice fit, their fingers slotted between each other. It's a warm fit, almost so sentimental that Myungsoo feels a traitorous cold wrap around his throat. He remembers that time back in college, one of those days when trying to figure out what exactly it was that Woohyun wanted was more difficult than any other exam. Sunggyu did the same thing, except their hands were a bit smaller then. Myungsoo's was, as least. Sunggyu swallowed Myungsoo's trembling fingers with his hand, still sweaty from when he'd been carrying around tripods for their shoot. It felt disgusting at first because the slide of their fingers was sticky, but after a while Myungsoo leaned into the touch. And then in a slow, swaying motion, Sunggyu moved their intertwined hands like a pendulum, saying, 'Don't think about it too much. It's midterm week. You know how acads fuck up with his brain. Just– Give it some time. He'll come around. He'll come home to you.'

But that's like saying, 'give your passion a rest until your muse comes back.' Woohyun makes the otherwise boring blue sky look different when it's his bright red hair that's against it, when sunlight's shining down on his face and making the twinkle in his eyes shine all the more. Woohyun makes things that would normally be bland _work._ He _is_ the color in black and white images, the point of focus. He's the only thing that's crisp and clear in a composition blurred by accidental motion – forward, plummeting heart-first into Woohyun's arms.

_Stop,_ Myungsoo reminds himself. This isn't college; this is volunteer work. He's helping out a friend. He's not here to dig up old photos to sob about. "How many times do I have to tell you–" he says, then, bends Sunggyu's hand back, "–never to call me that ever again?"

A few feet away, Baekhyun snorts. "Way past the age of puberty and he still calls me a kid." He reaches out, maybe hoping to rest his hand on Myungsoo's shoulder, but he stops midway through. Instead, he drops it to his side and massages his back, his sides, his nape. Touches every part of him that his hand can reach save for Myungsoo. "I'm beginning to think he's developed a complex or something. Look, hyung, if there's anything you need to tell me, _anything at all–_ "

Myungsoo feels Sunggyu's fingers stiffen. A blink, then it's gone. Sunggyu pulls away, then reaches over to ruffle Baekhyun's hair. "I'll stop calling you a kid when you stop acting like a twenty-eight-year-old puppy."

"Twenty-eight?" Myungsoo echoes. He turns to his side, meeting Baekhyun's gaze. "You're... twenty-eight?"

Being in the twenties is already a huge risk when you're an idol, as it is. There are people who still find success in the entertainment industry despite being of a ripe age, but they're few and far between. The last real twenty-something singer that SM was still able to make popular was Youngwoong Jaejoong, but everyone was sort of expecting him to not last too long. Sometimes, it isn't enough that you have talent. You also have to have the right ounce of naivety, child-like hope, the right amount of positivity to make it big and stay up there, among the ranks.

It's too early to tell, but maybe Baekhyun has exactly that – what it takes to actually spark _something_ in this industry at the age of twenty-eight. He's still here, after all, trying to perfect his routine, dancing on a foot that he injured just a few days ago. And he's even planning to practice singing after that. Maybe it's blind faith that's fueling Baekhyun to keep pushing, to keep dreaming, but at least it got the job done. Right now, that's all that matters.

Baekhyun snorts now, then rubs the underside of his nose. "Save the age joke for another day. I really have to finish this last run so I can make you listen to the improved–" He cocks his head to the side and leans in, just a few inches forward. He's close enough that Myungsoo can make out his stubble, the small dots of red on his cheeks. There's still the ghost of his injury on his cheeks, a faint scar of his fall. Myungsoo drops his hand in front of him. "What's wrong with being twenty-eight?"

"Nothing. Just–" Myungsoo shakes his head. He catches Sunggyu examining the gaps between his own hands where Myungsoo's fingers once were. He pushes the voice in his mind at the very back of his head where its farthest from his ears. "Wow. I... admire your persistence."

Baekhyun's eyes widen for a moment, but only just. Soon, he's laughing a little, the tight knot of his eyebrows easing into an easy lift. "Some call it persistence. Others call it being plain stubborn."

"I prefer calling it dreaming and working towards it," Sunggyu offers. He pinches Baekhyun in his side, then adds, "He's twenty-eight, too," tilting his head in Myungsoo's direction. "So Soo, you have no right to make fun of his age or anything. And _you,_ mister–"

Baekhyun gasps, but the shake of his head makes it look more exaggerated than ever. Myungsoo chuckles. "You called me _mister–_ "

"You, little kid, are going back to the center of the room and dancing for us," Sunggu finishes, lips thinning into a straight line. He raises a finger when Baekhyun parts his lips as if preparing to say something. "Don't even _think_ about making a joke out of it–"

"Kinky," Myungsoo comments, then hums. Sunggyu turns to him with wide eyes, then jabs him on the arm. "There, hyung, said it for you."

Myungsoo holds Sunggyu's stern gaze, but from a corner of his eye he can see Baekhyun furrowing his eyebrows. He's pressed his lips together again and he's covering his mouth with the back of his hand, like the shape of his mouth will give away whatever he's thinking about. Myungsoo blinks for a second, then, and turns to face Baekhyun so he can see him more clearly. There are crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his cheeks are tugged up, but the stretch of his mouth is covered by his hand. And it's frustrating. There's nothing wrong with revealing a bit of yourself through the quirk of the mouth or then gentle curl of the lips. There's nothing wrong about with baring one's teeth to smile. But Baekhyun makes it seem like a crime to spare someone a glimpse of his grin. It's as if SM told him, "Don't pull up the corners of your mouth too much. It scrunches up your face. It makes you look weird. And fans don't like that kind of idol face. That's not the kind of idol we've trained you to be."

"Asshole," Sunggyu mutters, and that's what reels Myungsoo back in. His body gives a tiny jerk and he looks back at Sunggyu in time to catch him shaking his head. Sunggyu lands one last punch to his side, connecting with his shoulder, and seethes when he feels a sharp pain in his knuckles. "Byun, practice. _Now._ As for you, stay in a corner. We'll need your input on his performance after the song."

"I'm not getting paid for this," Myungsoo mumbles, scoffing loud enough for Sunggyu to hear. When Sunggyu sticks out his leg in an effort to trip Myungsoo, Myungsoo sneers at him. "Chill, gramps. All I ask for is free food for the rest of my life."

"That's not fair."

Nothing's ever fair, he wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he answers, "Your talent's waiting for your signal. You better give it to him, hyung. Can't waste his precious time, yeah?"

Sunggyu sticks up his middle finger at Myungsoo this time, then presses the play button. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and resurfaces a different person.

The Baekhyun Myungsoo has come to interact with on a regular basis disappears into thin air whenever the music comes on. Spotlight on him, and Baekhyun wears this new persona like a second skin he's too accustomed to wearing. He moves with a fluidity Myungsoo doesn't usually see during downtime, when there's nothing but his voice and white noise in the air. This is a different kind of movement, though, one Myungsoo hasn't seen Baekhyun possess before. He _has_ improved in the few days that Myungsoo has known him. Maybe he's been practicing with some of SM's best choreographers. When you do something day in and day out, the same thing day in and day out, try to improve yourself, there's a slimmer chance of screwing up and a better chance of getting better.

Baekhyun does a pirouette and Myungsoo holds his breath, balls his hands into fists as he waits for Baekhyun to stop spinning. He's always had difficulty turning a complete circle before and he's only been able to do it once, but when he did it was wonderful. It was like watching a bird, a tiny bird still trying to get used to its wings, flap his wings for the first time. It was like watching Baekhyun stretch out his wings and take flight.

Baekhyun lands on his feet in a neat finish. _Snap._ Baekhyun does a curtsy and his hair falls to his face, sticking to his skin, but not quite enough to shield the small smile on his lips from his view. _Snap._ Baekhyun turns to them, eyes bright and hopeful, the same confident smile that was on his lips earlier replaced by something more uncertain now. Something more Baekhyun and less of the Baekhyun who had been dancing earlier. His lips are parted, the corners of his mouth tugged up, and his entire face is smiling like he's just put on the greatest performance yet. Still, his voice shakes when he asks, "So how was it?" His lips quiver for a moment, then he's worrying his bottom lip again and nibbling on it like it can make the nervousness dissipate along with the fading notes of the song.

"Hey. Hyung. Myung...soo." He gulps hard. "How was the thing?"

It's a thing of beauty, Myungsoo wants to say, but he can't say there aren't any flaws in the performance. Baekhyun could've done better, could've not dragged his foot to the next beat after the first chorus, but this is his best performance to date. And he's dancing on a recovering foot, even. Dancing is ten times harder when part of you is injured, out of commission. The injury attacks both the body of the soul. It wasn't apparent earlier, though, that Baekhyun was suffering from both. All Myungsoo saw was Baekhyun _performing,_ relaying the message of his self-composed song through both his vocals and the dance.

So he takes a deep breath and turns to Sunggyu, cocking an eyebrow at him. He's an outsider here, a spectator. If there's anyone that Baekhyun has to impress, it's Sunggyu who's been monitoring his progress since day one.

"Wonderful," Sunggyu says. Myungsoo raises his eyebrows in response, then nods. Baekhyun gasps, maybe even squeals a little. He presses his lips together but there's no denying the tiny squeak coming from the back of his throat. "You've outdone yourself, Baek. I'm really proud of you."

Baekhyun widens his eyes and leans back. The corners of his eyes are watery, glistening too hard in the bright and harsh lighting in the practice room. He looks as if he's seconds away from bawling his eyes out, so Myungsoo simply holds two thumbs up in his direction. "You're doing really great. Keep it up," he mutters soon after, and Baekhyun's cheeks flush a soft shade of pink. His ears turn red, though, giving him away. And the tip of his nose, as well. Then Baekhyun's lips are falling open into a teeth-baring grin, a smile that really reaches his eyes and lights up his entire face. Myungsoo slips his hands in his pockets, feeling around for his phone. This is it, he muses, this is the perfect shot he's been waiting for. All he has to do is whip out a camera and start snapping away. Or maybe borrow a DSLR or any point-and-shoot camera from the first person he sees in the corridors. Offer whatever help he can give just to borrow the camera for _one photo._ _Please, it's important–_ It doesn't matter how high the shutter count is; he just has to take a photo of this moment, have it printed, then have it framed. Then he'll return the camera, no questions asked.

He feels the edge of his phone against the pads of his fingers. He doesn't reach for it, but he does ball his hands into fists. He only has his eyes and his hands now, his fingers that are trembling in... fatigue? In the cool temperature? In something he can't seem to pinpoint? He isn't sure. So he does what comes naturally to him – he holds up index fingers and thumbs in an L and frames Baekhyun's face. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, but he doesn't move away. He pins Baekhyun in place, then, and makes a strange shutter sound that only makes sense to him in his head. Baekhyun's lips quiver – _snap_ – and then he's shaking his head, laughing just a little before turning back to the camera. _Snap._ Then he's turning to Myungsoo, looking into the 'lens', saying, "You're crazy. Stop–" But he's still smiling. So Myungsoo snaps without a care in the world, recording this moment until he feels the tightness in his throat ease.

"Was it really good?" Baekhyun asks later, long after he's finished making Myungsoo listen to the 'improved' version of the ballad.

Myungsoo shrugs and looks away. When he feels Baekhyun twisting his elbow in his side, he gives in, saying, "Hey– _Ow!_ It was great, okay! The best song ever!" Baekhyun keeps his elbow there, anyway, as if he means to make Myungsoo regret that split-second of indecision. He only ever succeeds in keeping Myungsoo close enough for the heat of his body to seep into Myungsoo's skin.

ミ☆

Myungsoo wraps his fingers around Sunggyu's wrist and whispers, "I'll do it."

Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him. He has one hand on the lock of the van's door and the other on his lap. The van has come to a complete halt. There's nothing here to muffle Myungsoo's words, not even the low humming of the engine. Still, the confusion in Sunggyu's eyes doesn't fade just yet. "You'll– _Oh,_ " he whispers after a while, and then he's nodding in acknowledgement. Even in the dim lighting, Myungsoo can make out the subtle movement of Sunggyu's muscles. His eyebrows give a funny twitch. His cheeks are tugged up. His lips are quirked up into half a smile and half something else that Myungsoo can't seem to pinpoint at the moment. And he can feel the strong and heavy beating of Sunggyu's pulse on his skin when Sunggyu gives his hand a light squeeze. "Are... Are you sure?"

"No," he answers, earnest, but then he can't get the look on Baekhyun's face earlier out of his mind. Baekhyun's eyes were _glimmering_ and even in the harsh, bright lighting in the practice room, his features looked so soft. Baekhyun was laughing, cackling without a care in the world. And Baekhyun was smiling at him. Baekhyun had his eyes on him like he was the only thing, the only person in the world who mattered at the moment.

And Myungsoo couldn't look away.

"I'm not sure but... I want to give it a shot. I mean, how long has it been since I last did a real photoshoot? Of humans?" He laughs, shaking his head. "It's been _years_ since I last did portraiture and–"

"The kid in the picture, though."

"That was incidental."

"Whatever you say," Sunggyu says, humming. "I have to get down from my stop now, though. "Remember, he lives farther away from the rest of us and he has an 8 a.m. call time. He has to get home soon," Sunggyu says, cocking his head in Baekhyun's direction.

Myungsoo chuckles. He looks over his shoulder, at the sleeping figure on the seat behind his. Baekhyun's fast asleep, slumped in his chair and his mouth moving is weird, lazy patterns. It's almost as if he's talking to someone or a lot of people in his sleep. Or maybe he's singing, because he's furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head in the same manner that he does when he's belting out certain parts of his song. Then he makes this tiny sound, like a gurgle at the back of his throat or maybe a whimper, and Myungsoo has to resist the urge to reach out and smoothen the crease on his forehead, to ease the knot of his eyebrows. He has to resist the urge to rest Baekhyun's head on his lap and tell him, in a soft voice, 'You can rest. Stop practicing. You're already the best.'

"I'll do it," he says again, slower this time, enunciating each syllable without mumbling his words. He swallows around the tightness in his throat then unwraps his fingers from Sunggyu's wrist. "I'll... do what you want me to do."

Sunggyu gives him one last look, then he's turning around to open the door of the van. "Thank you. It... really means a lot," he says over his shoulder, then shuts the door behind him. The engine roars back to life at the same time that Baekhyun lets out a high-pitched whine. It doesn't sound like one of his high notes – it sounds like a complaint, a groan that says, 'Can I take a break, please? _Please?_ ' So Myungsoo moves to where Baekhyun is, makes space for himself and rests Baekhyun's head on his lap. He threads his fingers through Baekhyun's hair, gives his scalp a light massage, not minding the sticky slide of the strands against his skin.

Baekhyun lets out a faint giggle, then leans into the touch. Myungsoo gulps down the funny sensation crawling up his throat then plummeting to the pit of his stomach, and brushes his knuckles along the curve of Baekhyun's cheek. When Baekhyun hums, lips curving up into a smile, he doesn't look away. Instead, he keeps his eyes on Baekhyun, watching his every movement, feeling the shift of his muscles against his own.

He keeps clicking.


	2. Chapter 2

Contract signing feels much like signing himself up for trouble. Baekhyun isn't in the room when Myungsoo meets up with the SM management to discuss the terms of his employment, but he is waiting for him in the practice room on the eighth floor. Baekhyun's first text this morning was, _is it true?? i heard from hyung O__O_ His second, _ARE YOU SERIOUS NOW OuO OuO OuO_ At that point, Myungsoo couldn't get rid of the image of Baekhyun making that face in real life, the kind of face where he looks at Myungsoo with wide eyes and pursed lips tugging up at the corners in a smile. The kind of stare that _expects_ something – that Myungsoo won't ever be able to say no to whatever Baekhyun asks of him.

_yeah. thought it wud b good experience. haha,_ he replied then. The voice at the back of his mind was screaming, I wonder who's going to make it a good experience? You're too exposed to the lights already, Myungsoo. It can't be the lights. It must be something, _someone_ else.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to do business with us," says one of the SM representatives. Myungsoo bows at him and holds his gaze, making sure to smile. "Our Sunggyu showed your portfolio to us way, way back and we were really impressed! You... You were the one who did the photography for the launch of the Twister Fries here in Korea, right? The one with Shim Changmin as the endorser?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. That was one of the more enjoyable shoots. Everyone was trying to create something out of the curly fries. Howon's contribution was curly fries as hair extensions. Myungsoo's was curly fries as a beard. The client walked in on them doing a declamation of sorts while wearing the curly fries. He'd build on that idea someday and turn it into a real campaign for McDonald's – 'twist reality with the new Twister Fries'.

Shim Changmin was still with SM Entertainment then. That happened around two years before he said he'd pursue his graduate studies in London. Myungsoo doesn't regret asking Changmin to sign his Wild Soul album. Or at least that's what he tells everyone who has berated him for not asking for an autograph.. The CD's still displayed on his CD rack, though, along with Woohyun's singles. He always put the non-Woohyun CDs in front. It made it easier to not play Woohyun's songs on a whim and start photographing everything in black and white again, hoping Woohyun will come rushing to his side to add a splash of color to the photos.

"Ah, yes. That, and all other Twister Fries endorsements. Shim Changmin is a really good endorser," Myungsoo replies. He nods in thought, recalling how their first shoot went. Grind was at eight in the morning because McDonald's wanted to relay the beautiful morning, noon, and night communication in the visuals. Changmin arrived two hours before that, saying he wanted to familiarize himself with the product before endorsing it. He fell in love with the Twister Fries at the first bite. "Very professional. I don't think we've ever encountered anyone like him."

"Oh? You didn't handle Youngwoong Jaejoong's wine endorsement?"

"Ah no, we didn't. We... did handle Park Yoochun's Starbucks commercial, though. It was an award-winning campaign." Award-winning in the sense that they always got free coffee from the client during shoots. It was one of the best two weeks of Myungsoo's life. "Kim Junsu and Jung Yunho's Bambi Kimchi endorsement, as well."

Over his shoulder, he hears Sunggyu chuckling. Shut up, he wants to tell him, but that isn't something you just blurt out when you're in a conference room with some of the biggest names in SM Entertainment. But then he made the mistake of mentioning every SM artist that he's ever worked with, save for one. If Sunggyu were an asshole then he'd probably be cackling at Myungsoo by now, index finger pointed at his face while he says, 'Did you seriously think you'd be able to get away with this?'

"Oh, you haven't worked with Woohyunnie yet? The Genesis endorsement?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. He counts to three, then lets out a low exhale when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. "I think I was assigned to a different project that time. We handle a lot of brands."

"Shame," the SM representative says. Myungsoo almost snorts, but he manages to disguise it in a cough. "Woohyunnie's such a hard-worker. Very professional, as well. Maybe you can work with him sometime, for his comeback next year. He's at the last leg of his military service so it should only be a matter of time until he gets out."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He nods and says automatically, "I look forward to it."

What he means is, I look forward to the day when I don't have to hide from him anymore. I look forward to the day when I can face him and be the one to initiate a conversation. _It should only be a matter of time–_

"Let's go?" Sunggyu asks. He gives Myungsoo's arm a light squeeze, then says, "Baekhyun's waiting."

His phone buzzes in his pocket twice. Baekhyun is waiting in the practice room, maybe looking forward to discussing the concept with him. He _has_ been asking about the teaser concept, after all, ever since Sunggyu mentioned talking with the management on how to do promote Baekhyun's debut single. Baekhyun suggested 'accidentally leaking' the track. Myungsoo nodded in agreement and added, "Leak the dance practice video, as well." Sunggyu looked at them with narrowed eyes but took their suggestion into consideration, anyway. Three days after, Sunggyu told them, "I can't believe the management actually bought the idea. _Wow._ "

Work, Myungsoo tells himself, repeats in his mind again and again until he can hear nothing else but his own voice echoing that word in his head. He's here for work and to improve his portfolio. He's here to earn a living, not kill himself with the sharp edge of his past. So he bows to the management one last time, then turns on his heel to face Sunggyu.

"Come. We can't make the kid wait."

Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him but says nothing else. They walk to the elevator in companionable silence, knuckles brushing with each forward step.

ミ☆

Baekhyun's debut single is all about seasons. The first track in the album is a light, easy tune that is sort of reminiscent of autumn. It gets bittersweet towards the end, which is a good transition to the next season. The winter track is a powerful ballad filled with heartache and emotions. The first time Myungsoo heard it, he found himself choking on his own spit and balling his hands into fists. Baekhyun wasn't making painful noises, but somehow the way he sang everything made the song ten times more poignant than it should be. Baekhyun has a habit of curling some of his notes too much, but when strategically placed the curls make the song leave an even greater impact. Straightforward singing can sound a bit boring sometimes, but Baekhyun's voice has a very distinct tone automatically carries emotions with it. Myungsoo can close his eyes, listen to Baekhyun humming, and feel _something_ in his gut even if Baekhyun never intended to tug on his heartstrings.

"I like the spring track best," Sunggyu declares. He scribbles something on the paper he's holding, then reaches for the demo of Baekhyun's single. "The summer one is very SMP, but I think the spring song suits Baekhyun the most. It just... sounds so him."

"Well, it doesn't sound half as chatty as he is," Myungsoo comments. Beside him, Baekhyun groans but only just. He's just finished dancing his summer track and he complained about his limbs 'feeling like death' earlier, whatever that meant. The thin sheet of sweat making his skin glisten isn't lying, though. "But you're right, it _does_ sound so much like him. Problem is, we have to highlight the summer track because he's debuting in summer."

"I can sing the spring track in April, in time for the SM Town concert," Baekhyun suggests. He lets his face fall forward, body curling up as he rests his forehead on his knees. "I thought the management already had everything planned? I mean, they already made me record everything. All that's missing are the teaser and the actual music video. I mean– _Come on,_ don't tell me–"

Baekhyun huffs. Myungsoo looks in his direction and waits – for a continuation, for Baekhyun to spill and share his worries, for Baekhyun to _look up_ and meet him in the eye. He knows how fear and worry look on a twenty-eight-year-old's face. He sees it in the mirror, everyday. It's never a good look on anyone, but somehow he's gotten used to how it paints his features and breathes a bit of color into him. Sometimes, you need fear to fuel you to do the unimaginable, to take a huge leap of faith. He's been using the same thing to drive himself to break free from the chains of his past. And now, here he is, reaching out with his foot to give Baekhyun a gentle nudge.

"Hey," he whispers. "Don't hunch your back like that. You'll end up with sore muscles."

"They're already sore," Baekhyun mumbles. "Won't make a difference."

"It will. Straighten up. Come on–" He kicks Baekhyun in the calf this time, and that jolts Baekhyun out of his tiny ball, makes him snap up straight and meet Myungsoo's gaze. "There. _Better._ "

Better means fatigue no longer written on Baekhyun's face but so evident in the stretch of his body. It means the last few dregs of fear crawling down his legs and unwrapping itself from its hold on his ankles. It means Baekhyun shifting in his seat and facing Myungsoo and Sunggyu as he whispers, "They're not dropping me, right? They can't just drop me without a word." There's a small smile on his lips, just a tiny lift at the corners, but the strain on his cheeks makes his muscles shake.

Myungsoo swallows hard. He looks over his shoulder, searching Sunggyu's gaze. When he doesn't earn a response, he pinches Sunggyu in the stomach. Sunggyu's first response is a yelp; his second, pressing his lips in a thin line then meeting Baekhyun's heavy gaze.

"You think they'll make an effort to have Myungsoo sign a contract if they were dropping you?" Sunggyu begins. He shakes his head, laughing a little. His voice goes throaty somewhere along the way, but then that's what the cold weather does to people. It has nothing to do with uncertainty and unspoken truths. It has nothing to do with the way his eyebrows furrow a little when Baekhyun makes a frowning face at him. "The SM management is all about money, Baek. It doesn't make sense that they'd give you a contract after winning The Voice of Korea _then_ drop you just like that. You have quite a following already. Getting rid of you is like throwing away the entire fanbase and all the money they've invested in you."

"Well, some people do stupid things sometimes," Baekhyun mumbles.

Myungsoo chuckles. "Did you just call your employer stupid? Despite the knowledge that there are hidden cameras in this room?"

Baekhyun widens his eyes and wraps his fingers around Myungsoo's wrist in a tight, tight grip. It doesn't hurt, though, but it does make him lose the feeling in his fingers. "Are you _fucking serious?_ " He turns to Sunggyu, then, and says, "Hyung, you didn't tell me–"

"Relax, kid!" Sunggyu says. He shakes his head and reaches out, ruffling Baekhyun's hair. His chin finds a nice fit on Myungsoo's shoulder. Myungsoo shivers at the contact at first, when he feels Sunggyu's hot breath blowing against his cheek, but soon he leans into the warm press of Sunggyu's chest to his back. This is familiar. There are no security cameras here, only Baekhyun's curious gaze watching them through the slits of his bangs.

"Not a kid," Baekhyun says, pulling away. He locks his arms behind his back and promises, "Okay, I'll nail it this time! Load the spring track!"

Baekhyun sings about winter melting, falling prey to spring's kind and unassuming winds. He's swaying from side to side as he performs his song, a water bottle acting as his microphone. He isn't facing the mirror this time; instead, he's looking at both Sunggyu and Myungsoo, singing _to_ them like he's trying to make them understand what real spring means. Myungsoo can picture it now: light greens in the background, soft wisps of clouds in the sky. Baekhyun taking a stroll in the park, walking a dog that is tamer and not as loud as he is. He'd be in casual blue jeans, a white v-neck top, then a red blazer. There has to be a pop of color there somewhere to match Baekhyun's brightness, to bring out his personality even more. Then he'd have a scarf – maybe one with patterns? stars? – wound around his neck in a loose circle. He can try to ask Baekhyun to not wear a bonnet because his ears turn the most interesting shade of red in the cold. This is it, Myungsoo muses, the perfect spring shot – SM's new talent, Byun Baekhyun, standing out in a sea of people in the park just by being his normal, usual self.

Baekhyun's voice cracks somewhere towards the bridge, just as he transitions to a higher register. Baekhyun's eyes widen for a moment and then he's back, all bright eyes and smiles as he sings the remainder of his song. To the untrained ear, it will sound as if there's a thick lump of laughter caught in Baekhyun's throat, but _that's not it._ That's fear disguised as chuckles, giggles. That's fear taking the form of a weird smile prying Baekhyun's lips open. It isn't sunshine filtering through the clouds; it's the brunt brightness of studio lights shining upon Baekhyun, washing him out.

Myungsoo nods in support, then, and flashes him a thumbs up. He's saying, just keep going. This is just practice. You can always try to avoid it next time. This isn't the end of the world yet. Baekhyun seems to understand, because when he reaches the high note in the last chorus his voice thins into fine silk, a velvety tone that both exposes the imperfections in his voice but tugs on Myungsoo's heart strings. It feels like there are invisible fingers plucking at them, playing a song inside Myungsoo that he never even thought he knew the chords to. So he hums, swaying from side to side as Baekhyun carries out the last note without a hitch.

Baekhyun finishes with a big smile, bright and blinding. It reaches the corners of his eyes, making them crinkle. It lifts the tension in his cheeks and his shoulders. And it draws their eyes to each other – Baekhyun's wicked, unfocused gaze settling on Myungsoo's scrutinizing one.

"You liked it?" Baekhyun asks, bumping his hip into Myungsoo's side.

Myungsoo looks up at him and cocks an eyebrow. He snaps a photo of this look on Baekhyun's face – the grin stretched across his lips, the glimmer in his eyes. The way the fluorescent light sets him aglow and aflame, burning an image of his greatest performance at the back of Myungsoo's eyelids. He doesn't answer until the smile on Baekhyun's lips falters, until Baekhyun juts out his bottom lip and _slowly_ presses the back of his hand to his lips. Until Baekhyun pinches him in the arm like a reminder, saying, 'Come on, you were the one who urged me to go on. You _asshole,_ you can't just let me down like this–'

"It was _okay,_ " Myungsoo singsongs, sticking out his tongue when he finishes. Baekhyun groans at him and slaps him hard on the arm, soft laughter spilling from his lips with every hit.

Myungsoo gives in. He doesn't fight back.

ミ☆

He takes a few test shots of Baekhyun during practice using his phone. It's standard practice in the industry – you'll want to look for your talent's best angle before taking a series of photos of him for mass production. You'll want to familiarize yourself with the different facets of his features that various angles can bring out. And Baekhyun, being a relative newbie in the whole 'showbiz shazam', as he has so lovingly put, doesn't know his angle yet. It's understandable. During Jaejoong's first year in the entertainment industry, his photos in magazine spreads and posters always made him look like some awkward little kid who's just been forced to endorse a product he doesn't even use. It takes time to find a good side of you, to find something good in yourself that you'd be willing to share with other people.

"How about one where I shove my face in the camera?" Baekhyun suggests one time, then leans in until his nose is just inches away from Myungsoo's phone. The tip of his nose is red. His top lip, even more. It takes every inch of control not to pan down and focus on another part of Baekhyun's face, on his lips that are no longer as chapped as before.

"Yeah, that's attractive. Nice googly eyes," Myungsoo mumbles, feigning disinterest, but snaps away, anyway. Baekhyun does this weird, funny thing with his mouth, like he's chewing on something but really isn't. And Myungsoo tells himself to focus, focus, _focus,_ but it's hard. It's difficult when Baekhyun is doing both everything and nothing to draw Myungsoo's eyes – _the lens_ – elsewhere. Myungsoo takes a deep breath, then, and swallows hard. He can't give in. There's work to be done. "Can you scrunch your nose more? _There you go._ The fans will love this. One million Naver hits in an hour, I can feel it."

"I'll win the mobile popularity award next year, I'm dead sure."

"Or selca of the year." Myungsoo clicks the shutter release at the same time that Baekhyun puffs his cheeks. It _is_ cute. "You have my vote, i promise." 

Baekhyun laughs a little and winks at the camera. Myungsoo's throat tightens. "Aww, shucks, I dunno how to deal with fans yet–"

A few feet away, Sunggyu calls out at them, "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Doing test shots!" Baekhyun yells right back. He turns to look at Sunggyu, then scrunches his face in the weirdest possible look ever. Sunggyu widens his eyes in mortification and leans back. Myungsoo takes a photo of that, too – Baekhyun's Halloween face and Sunggyu's reaction to it. Maybe Baekhyun should attempt a Halloween concept as the follow up to the summer single. It will be a hit.

By the second week of the month, mid-December, when the biting cold turns into a normal presence but not any less of an enemy, he already has two albums filled with pictures of Baekhyun taken from different angles. Five low-angle shots of him while he's dancing, sweat making his threadbare shirt stick to his skin. The dip of his back is a nice, gentle slope that leads to the swell of his ass. Baekhyun doesn't even have much of a behind, but the slight twist of his body just accentuates all the right curves. Myungsoo traces the contour of his body with his gaze and–

_No._ Work, he reminds himself, he's here to work, not to thumb through photos of Baekhyun. He's not here to marvel at a photo of Baekhyun belting out a high note, eyes closed and head thrown back as he sings into a water bottle.

Sweat trickles down the column of Baekhyun's neck, tracing lines on his white shirt. It rides up a little, revealing an expanse of flesh and a light trail of hair. Myungsoo seethes and closes the album, navigating to the Halloween folder, instead.

"Hey– Myungsoo!" Baekhyun waves in his direction now, flailing his arms in the air. His lips are pressed together in a thin line again and his cheeks are flushed. Dancing always leaves him glowing a nice shade of pink. Singing gives him a peculiar kind of shine, a light that washes out everything around him but himself. He moves closer to where Myungsoo is, then stops when the distance between them thins to a few feet. "What's my best singing face? Is it when I tilt my head to the side?" he then asks. He sucks in his bottom lip. "Or when I tilt my head back _just a little–_

Baekhyun does that pose, the same one that Myungsoo had seen earlier in the photograph. He closes his eyes as he lets out a thin, high note. He puts a good distance between his lips and the bottom of the bottle. A product of habit or good training, Myungsoo can't tell. Either way, it makes Baekhyun look good, exposes the veins on his neck when he stars singing a high 'ha'. His entire face is scrunched in a mix of passion and pain, in a look that would otherwise look strange, but it works. He makes it work. Baekhyun's communicating his message well in this pose, like he truly means whatever the 'ha' is supposed to be telling his audience.

It looks better in real life than it does on paper. It feels different. Myungsoo feels a shiver crawl down his spine, his arms, grip his throat tight.

Baekhyun pops an eye open. His lips are tugged up a little, just a subtle quirk of the mouth. "So?"

"That's–" Beautiful, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he says, "That's it. That's the pose."

"Cool!" Baekhyun says, clapping his hands then throwing his arms overhead. He still isn't smiling that bright smile of his, but he isn't back to the good ol' Baekhyun either. There's still the SM-patented look on his face, like he forgot to slip out of his idol costume long after promotions were over. "That's for the autumn track, by the way. For when I sing it, I mean. Can't let my guard down and not look good on cam…" He locks his arms in front of him, then asks, "We're shooting the autumn photos tomorrow, right?"

The autumn shoot. Work. _Right._ "Yeah, we are," Myungsoo answers. Baekhyun grunts in response and turns on his heel, walking back to the center of the room. He takes slow, measured steps, and Myungsoo follows him with his gaze until Baekhyun's facing front again. He looks back down at his phone, then, goes through the Halloween album. He spots a photo of Baekhyun in his most uncharacteristic depiction of a ghost – eyebrows meeting at the middle, eyes turning into slits, and lips parted, the beginnings of laughter bubbling on his bottom lip.

He takes a deep breath, gulps hard. He risks one last glance at the photo before closing the album, navigating to his messages, instead. He pulls up his long abandoned thread with Howon and types, _need coffee 2nyt. my treat. see u._ When he finishes, the pads of his fingers are cold and numb. He can feel his pulse on the base of his throat, drumming a beat on his skin.

_was waiting for u to say that hehe,_ Howon replies. Another beep, and Myungsoo rolls his eyes upon reading the message. _excited ;)_

ミ☆

He arrives at Insadong at eight in the evening, flecks of snow catching on his bangs and the tip of his nose. He was supposed to meet Howon in Gangnam, but the city has been as good as home these past few weeks that he's been frequenting the SM building. He managed to convince Howon to change locations, arguing that he needs a change in environment. "I need something new. _Refreshing,_ " he'd said. Howon only let out a long sigh and gave in not more than a minute after. The request is warranted. In less than twenty-four hours, he'll be stuck in the Gangnam area for shoots and post-production for the next few months, barring those times when they'll hold location shoots. In less than twenty-four hours, he'll officially be a slave to SM Entertainment's new project, a man in his late twenties debuting eight months from now. He'll be spending every waking moment thinking of how to best bring out Baekhyun's personality through photos, how to make him look good. He'll be thinking of Baekhyun's silly, boyish smile day and night.

He snorts. He's not sure if that's a good thing. Maybe it's both good and bad – good for his pocket, bad for his sanity. Good because he'll be able to beef up his portfolio, but bad because he wants to slow down and just take time to enjoy things. Being in an ongoing production means being on your toes, being prepared for whatever might come your way. And after five years of feeling like he's always at the brink of going insane, he's not sure if he wants to experience it again.

"I'm really glad you're the one doing the photoshoot. That you're my photographer, I mean," he remembers Baekhyun telling him. It was during one of those fifteen-minute breaks that Sunggyu gave him after a long and tiring morning session. Baekhyun's voice sounded rougher, more strained that time, like he was just forcing himself to speak because the silence had already become overwhelming. His lips were chapped, almost bleeding. His eyes were smiling, though; that was enough to lighten up the rest of his features. "Because you know how to bring out the best in me. And you're not afraid to call me out of my bullshit. That's really important," Baekhyun continued. "I think it's important to have people who aren't afraid to shoot down your best ideas. It means they know you can do a better job. That they think – no, _trust_ that you can still improve."

"Big words," Myungsoo said then. He nudged Baekhyun in his side and added, "It's also important to have fun, though, in everything that you do. It makes learning from experience easier and more enjoyable."

"You make idol life sound like playtime."

"Isn't it supposed to be?" Myungsoo asked. "You're pursuing something you're passionate about. The minimum requirement is to have fun with it. That's the _bare minimum._ "

"Well, aren't you early," a familiar voice says, and that's what jerks Myungsoo back to reality. He looks up from his phone and turns his head in the direction of the voice. Howon's standing just a few inches away, bundled in too many layers of clothing that his scarf almost covers his mouth. Myungsoo can make out the small smile tugging up at the corners of his lips, though, reaching the corners of his eyes. The lighting here is good enough for him to not have to squint to see things clearly. "You said 8 p.m.. It's only 7:50. I thought Sunggyu's an evil manager who doesn't let people rest?"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes and lands a jab to Howon's arm in greeting. "And I missed you, too, bud," he whispers, then wraps his arms around Howon in a hug. Howon laughs a little, against his neck, but he leans into the touch anyway. For someone who isn't as receptive to touch as he is to freshly brewed coffee, it sure doesn't take him long to thaw out and become warm again in Myungsoo's embrace. If the same scenario happened five years ago, back in Red Balloon where it was easy to get attached to someone you spend forty-eight tireless hours with, Howon probably would've pulled away five seconds into the hug. "And hyung's not as bad as you think. He let me off before 7:30."

"I'm calling it a miracle. A Christmas miracle," Howon mumbles. He pinches Myungsoo in his stomach, but keeps his fingers splayed there. Myungsoo remembers this from that time he almost passed out during the last offline edit for their Twister Fries commercial. Howon kept his palm on Myungsoo's stomach and said, 'He's just hungry. He's not dead. Someone get us fries! _Anyone–_ ' "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not too long. Five, seven minutes?" Myungsoo replies. He takes a deep breath and blows at the fleck of snow that has caught on the tip of his nose. Howon laughs a little then pinches him again. This time, Myungsoo pulls away with an easy smile and lets his arms fall to his sides. "I'm wearing four layers. I'm warm."

Howon cocks an eyebrow at him for a while, then he's ushering Myungsoo inside. "Yeah, because your heart's a colder place. Of course."

"You're my favorite friend."

Howon shakes his head, slow and deliberate. "I'm buying soju _but only that._ You better keep your promise!"

Myungsoo gives him a thumbs up from over his shoulder and walks ahead, slipping inside the restaurant and waiting for his limbs to thaw out. Once they get settled, he gets them three orders of pork and some sundubu jjigae. They share a bowl of rice and ask for 'extra tofu' in the stew. When the waitress gives them a funny look, they meet each other's gaze and try really hard not to laugh.

An hour after, they've already emptied out their first bottle of soju and the Hite Howon got as their chaser. "You know, I've been thinking, when I was on the way here–" Howon hiccups now, then pops some kimchi in his mouth. Myungsoo isn't sure how that's supposed to help, but he doesn't question Howon anyway. Instead, he pushes a glass in Howon's direction until the cool surface makes contact with Howon's knuckles. Howon shivers a little, voice shaking. "Jesus, that's–" He sniffles, then shakes his head. "Anyway, I was _thinking,_ since, you're spending the next few months in prison–"

His contract with SM Entertainment hardly warrants the label 'prison'. Sure, photoshoots stretch to twelve grueling hours sometimes, but that doesn't happen on a daily basis. They're given enough time for improving the photos in post-production, and the shoots are spread out across months. They aren't doing three or four in just one week; now _that's_ torture. That might as well feel like being trapped in a tiny box with the walls closing in on you.

Besides, Sunggyu and Baekhyun are there to make work more bearable. He might even get to work with a couple more people who he can learn from. He's twenty-eight, soaked and saturated in advertising knowledge. Maybe he missed out on a lot of wonderful things in the five years that he sold his soul to the media overlords.

"'Prison' is too strong a word. I'd call it a contract, that's more like it," Myungsoo comments, laughing a little. Howon rolls his eyes at him, then takes a long sip of his water. Myungsoo raises his hand, then, and orders for another bottle of Chamisul. "Well, the hours _are_ longer than the usual but what would you expect? They want quarterly teasers. We only have three months for one whole prod cycle and we're running late for autumn because it's already winter."

"As I said, 'prison,'" Howon says through a grin. Myungsoo frowns at him in response and doesn't pour him a shot of soju. " _Anyway,_ as I was saying, since you won't get much free time because you're tied to that Baekhyun kid of yours and you're pretty much convinced to do the spring exhibit with me..." His voice trails off, and he begins stroking his chin. This is his 'I have a really great idea so will you _please_ hear me out' face. Alternatively, his 'I might be up to no good' face. Right now, it's a balance of the two. "What if you use him as your subject? Your talent? It's like shooting two birds with one stone – you're earning a living _and_ having fun–"

"And he's an _SM talent,_ " Myungsoo interrupts. He shakes his head. Maybe in another world it would be easy to get Baekhyun as his model, but idols and idols-to-be are bound to their employers by a contract. And in that contract is some convoluted communication that each and every part of that idol's body is property of the company. Who knows, someone in SM might be able to recognize Baekhyun just by the slope of his neck or the tips of his bangs. Myungsoo can do that. He can identify people by the tuft of their hair or the tips of their fingers. The tilt of their head, their silhouette. He knows just by the twist of the body if it's Baekhyun or Sunggyu or one of those members of security that Baekhyun is good friends with. And if he can do that, then it isn't far off that someone in SM might have developed the same skill.

"Okay, _fine._ You can use him for some of your shots. Then Sunggyu for the remaining five or three." Howon shrugs. "It was worth a shot. Besides, I saw your lock screen." He purses his lips and juts them out in the direction of Myungsoo's phone. "Nice light play. You sorta have a chiaroscuro thing going on. The last time I saw you pull that off was–"

Way, way back, when he'd shown the portfolio he presented to Red Balloon's management to Howon. He had a picture of Woohyun there during Art and Design Week. Woohyun was on stage, eyes shut tight and face contorted in every meaning of the song he was belting out. His head was thrown back just a little and the sun was up high. The light almost washed him out. A fourth of him looked as if it was being blown away by the wind, dissipating into specks of light. The rest of him was clothed in different shades of gray. And Woohyun looked, _felt_ like a living, breathing song in that picture. The photograph felt so alive.

Myungsoo shivers. He tries to swallow, to ease the tightness in his throat, but there's something lodged in the middle, keeping him from breathing properly. Then it drops to the pit of his stomach, lolls back and forth until is explodes. And then Myungsoo's chest is heaving and his fingers are turning cold. He can feel it crawling up his arms, wrapping around his neck and gripping it tight. And his knuckles have turned white.

He looks up and finds Howon looking at him, eyebrows furrowed and head cocked to the side. "I've... forgotten," Howon continues, "when I last saw that."

Myungsoo snorts. "I thought you had immaculate memory," he challenges, but leans back in his seat soon after. Under the table, the tips of their shoes bump. It brings back the feeling in Myungsoo's toes a little. He feels a bit warm again. "But yeah. SM might sue me for using Baekhyun's face without their consent. And then I'll lose and I have to return everything they've paid me. Not worth it."

Howon chuckles. "Not if you spend all the money or donate them to charity," he says, finishing with a wink.

Myungsoo shakes his head. "You're my favorite for a reason," he mutters, then pours Howon a shot.

Howon holds his gaze, eyes focused despite all the alcohol they've had. His eyes are red and his cheeks are flushed and he's yawning, but his gaze doesn't wane. His lips aren't quivering. It's an all-out staring contest. There's an apology somewhere there, in the subtle tilt of his head or in the way one – only one – corner of his mouth tugs up in the most subtle of smiles. So he takes it, acknowledges Howon with a nod. He raises his glass, then, and bumps it against Howon's, just a tiny 'clink' of glass against glass that rings in his ears and makes him see clearer.

There's a budding pimple on Howon's cheek, some two inches from his eyes. There's a cut on his lip, possibly from the biting cold. And he's raising his glass in Myungsoo's direction, moving closer until his hand is just an inch away from Myungsoo's. They clash their glasses in the air this time, meeting halfway – for long life, better days ahead of them, more money and a better career, Myungsoo doesn't know. All he's certain of at the moment is that there's still food on the table that they have to finish and that it's thirty minutes until closing time. And that he has an 8 a.m. call time tomorrow, that he has to travel too many miles to reach Gangnam at an early hour.

"So, to spending SM's money before they sue you?" Howon asks, chuckling. Myungsoo rolls his eyes.

"To spending every single cent until I'm broke as fuck," Myungsoo answers.

Howon's lips pull into a shit-eating grin that reaches his eyes. They take their shots at the same time, upon Howon's request, and when they both end up seething they cackle at each other. Soon, they erupt into a peal of laughter, the kind that sends a funny shiver down Myungsoo's spine and wraps itself around his knees. He can feel his pulse, heavy and fast, on his palms, the back of his ears, the base of his throat as it mixes with laughter. Maybe he'll regret this in the morning or as soon as he gets home, when his body reminds him that he's nearing thirty and not the same old twenty-year-old that he once was. When the nagging voice at the back of his head begins to scream at him that, 'You never learn, Myungsoo. You _never_ learn–' But to hell with that. It's been so long since he's last felt alive. So he pushes that voice to the very back of his mind and replaces it with the harmony of their laughter. He replays it in his mind, again and again until his own voice rings in his ears. Until he can no longer hear the thrumming in his chest and the way Howon hiccups between heavy breaths.

... until Baekhyun's spring track starts playing at the back of his mind, making him hum along to the familiar tune.

ミ☆

Myungsoo wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body and something blaring in his ears. It takes a while to process – his bedside lamp still open, it's still dark outside but he can make out the snow clinging to the glass of his window. There's a morning show playing on TV and they're talking about the better snow situation in Seoul today. It's one of those morning talk shows-slash-news programs on KBS that Myungsoo rarely sees even when he was still with the production house. He spent most of his 4, 5 a.m.'s either in the office, still working on whatever was due before lunch, or buried in his comforters and pillows in bed, after all.

He blinks several times and open his eyes, really opens them, to take it his surroundings better. How the hell did he end up in his bedroom when he has a vague recollection of getting home? He can't even remember if they paid the right amount at the restaurant, but if they let them leave then _maybe–_

He feels around for his phone, slipping his hand beneath the pillow he's resting his head on. The battery's at 35%. If he keeps it on wi-fi and doesn't answer messages until he gets rid of the stink of alcohol then he'll be able to leave with his phone at full batt. He scrolls through his notifications, nonetheless, and sends a text to Howon. _still alive sry 4 passing out last nyt and tnx for the drinks. til next,_ it says. Maybe he should've said, 'til the next time we decide to not act like teenagers and realize we can't drink that much in our twenty-eight-year-old bodies anymore.

_oh great ur awake :D nah it's fine passed out when i got home 2. and woke up at 4 because I'M OLD AND CAN'T SLEEP MORE THAN 3 HRS_

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. He regrets it soon after, though, when he feels his temples throb and something pound at the back of his head. _wish i cud sleep more but work huhu,_ he replies, then rummages through his things for his charger. He plugs his phone, then, and leaves it on his bed.

His ringtone greets him when he emerges from the showers fifteen minutes after, no longer reeking of the scent of last night's silliness. Jaejoong's song resonates in the four corners of his room. It's from his first album – Maze – coincidentally Sunggyu's favorite of Jaejoong's and one of the songs that Woohyun– _No,_ a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. It's loud enough to knock him back to reality, to this moment where's he's still toeing between sleep and soberness.

The ringtone's too loud even for himself at this early hour, so he dives into his bed as soon as his legs adjust to the new temperature. The push and pull of hot and cold feels nice, though, sort of like all the forces of destiny are _forcing_ him to wake up, but the warm caress of the comforters make it so difficult to wake up. It's as if they're telling him to give up and give in. _It's okay to sleep some more, Myungsoo. It's not even six yet; you can still get some rest–_

The opening notes for Maze ring in his ears again, bouncing off the walls of his room. It sounds too shrill this time, and suddenly he's reminded that 1) he has to get up, like _really_ get up, and 2) there's someone on the phone. "Fuck," he groans, then unlocks his phone. Baekhyun's name is flashing on his screen in big letters. They look as if they'll jump out at him and stab him in the eye if he ever thinks of falling asleep. "Fine," he mumbles, then drags the green button to the right. There's nothing but static for the next few seconds until it dies down to white noise. "Hello?" Myungsoo tries, but still no response. He's about to put down the phone when he hears a soft 'oh' from the other end of the line.

"Oh hey, you're awake." Light humming, then, "Good morning."

Myungsoo takes a sharp breath. Baekhyun's voice still sounds scratchy, thick with lethargy and sleep, but Myungsoo can hear the lilt somewhere towards the end. Like Baekhyun has just roused from his slumber and the first thing he thought of doing was to grab his phone to dial Myungsoo's number. Probably not the case but Myungsoo entertains the thought, anyway, allows it to tug at the waistband of his pants and keep him from slumping against his pillows. He sits at the edge of his bed and wiggles his toes against the carpet. "Good morning. You're up."

"Yeah, I am."

Myungsoo gulps hard. He can feel his fingers getting cold. It's just his body telling him to put something on, that the heater in the room can only do so much to ease himself into the temperature. Winter's still rapping on his window, frolicking on the streets and leaving flecks of snow on the ground. "You should be hopping on the van... I guess. You're getting picked up first, right?"

"Hmm?" Baekhyun says in reply, and then there's silence again. It's as if he's drifting back to sleep every ten seconds. It's two parts cute, three parts unsettling and unnerving. It makes Myungsoo's toes curl against the carpet, ticking his skin. "Oh, right. I got– I just got on. we'll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Sunggyu-hyung said he'll be going straight to SM from his house so we'll get to our location earlier than expected. So–"

So they don't have to pass by Yeouido before heading to Gangnam. They don't have to take a zigzagging path across the river and take the same conversation path where they talk about everything but today's shoot. So it will just be the two of them in the van today, at this early hour, when Myungsoo knows that his sense of logic is as good as gone. Mornings make him more pliant, yielding, relenting. Mornings just make him want to curl up in bed with someone or rest his head on someone's shoulder. For warmth, he'd always argue whenever Sunggyu looked at him for silly for tugging him closer. For comfort, one last hurrah before getting started on what has to be done, he remembers telling Woohyun before one of their last photoshoots. That was five years and too many memories ago, too many lost opportunities.

There's no good excuse to do whatever his body _commands_ him to do now, with only minutes separating him from Baekhyun and, later, nothing but a couple of inches. There's no good reason why he shouldn't lean on Baekhyun's shoulder to catch a few more z's before he starts slaving his ass off, as well.

You need coffee, he tells himself. He needs food and a good wake-up slap. He needs air. He breathes in noisily through his nose and catches the last bit of Baekhyun's statement when he exhales. "–said they'll probably arrive late so maybe we can grab coffee somewhere? Or... breakfast. Not sure if there's catering in the morning but I'm _famished._ "

Myungsoo is, too – for warmth, for a second chance at life. He gulps down hard. "Oh. Breakfast?"

"Or just coffee," Baekhyun replies at once. "I'm just... sorta impatient. Sort of. Because catering won't be around only until thirty minutes before grind."

Myungsoo shrugs. It feels like lifting weights off his shoulders. "Well, I don't mind either. I'm cool," he says after a while. He checks the clock. It's almost half past six in the morning. The van should be here in a few minutes. He should get ready, but Baekhyun hasn't stopped breathing into the receiver yet. And the crackling noise doesn't sound as off-putting as it should. Still, they're supposed to be running on a schedule so he puts on his pants, pulling them up until he can feel the cuffs clinging to his ankles. "I'll see you in a while?"

"Y–Yeah," Baekhyun replies. His voice trails off but doesn't fade out into silence just yet, like he wants to say something except he hasn't thought of the right words for it at the moment. So Myungsoo swallows hard around the thick lump in his throat, waiting for Baekhyun's next move. He slips on one sleeve of his polo, then the other, all while balancing his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. It's a challenge. Waiting for Baekhyun to say something is an even more difficult test.

"I'll see you," Baekhyun says again. A loud gulp, then, "In ten minutes, I think. No traffic at all. We could reach Gangnam before seven."

He could mean, you have ten minutes to get used to this _or_ we only have ten minutes left to stay like this. After that, it's showtime, time to work. Myungsoo can't tell yet. He's barely been awake for an hour; he can't rely on his brain to process things of this complexity at such an early hour. That's asking too much. So instead, he replies, "Hyung would be so happy. Or proud. And we get to tease him about being late."

Baekhyun snorts. It sounds so sudden and unrehearsed, so unbecoming of an idol. But then it isn't eight in the morning yet. Baekhyun hasn't clocked in at work yet. He isn't SM's charity right now; he's just Byun baekhyun, the guy riding the SM shuttle who's just admitted to having very little patience for things that he has to wait for. "Well, he better be," Baekhyun answers, chuckling. He sniffles. "And whatever, I always come in ten minutes before he does. He can't call me out on being late, _ever._ "

"Always?" Myungsoo asks as he buttons up his polo. He stops when he feels loud thumping in his chest, against the cool pads of his fingers. It's almost like a drumbeat rapping against his ribcage. It jolts him awake a little, enough to allow him to balance himself on one foot while putting on a sock in the other. "He isn't the type– I don't know. He's never been late to gatherings before, back when we were in college."

"That's a long time ago, Myungsoo. People change."

He takes a deep breath. His nail catches on the fibers of his sock. It feels like the strings are trying to wrestle his nail from his skin. It sort of feels like being pulled apart only to be put back together and reinvented. Newer, better. Not necessarily happier, but better than before. At least there's the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

"Yeah. People change." Emotions don't. Or they do, but they remain the same, just as strong even years after with little to no contact with the very thing that sparked the sliver of emotion. He cracks his neck and wonders if the sound caught on the receiver. If it's the packet of sound that's making Baekhyun groan right now and not the roadblocks on the street. "I... need to put the phone down. Gotta tie my laces."

Baekhyun chuckles. "You want me to tie you up?"

Too early. Too risky. Myungsoo gulps hard. " _Shoelaces._ "

"Right. I'm gonna–" Scratching sounds on the other end of the line, then, "Catch you in a few. Happy tying!"

Myungsoo shakes his head and keeps his phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder long after Baekhyun has ended the call. He could've stayed on the line until he had to lock his house, close the door behind his back and dash to the elevator where the signal's crappy as fuck. He could've stayed on the line until Baekhyun made the driver sound off the horn thrice, until the feeling of guilt and embarrassment that he might be waking up his neighbors because of this whole picking up thing settled at the pit of his stomach and left him feeling queasy. But that won't let him do his job. He hates having to split his attention between two or more things, pouring his heart and soul into just one and then half-assing the rest. So he lays his phone down on the bed and turns his attention to the knot he's tied, the messy loop of laces that looks nothing like a neat bow.

He shakes his head and tugs at one side, watching the knot come off. Too easy, he thinks, as his phone beeps and Baekhyun's name pops on his screen. It can't be this easy.

ミ☆

Baekhyun makes a stopover at Myungsoo's place before they get back on track in their trip to Gangnam. He asks for permission to pee, saying that he can't hold his bladder for another second, and Myungsoo lets him. It's not as if they're running late – they can leave in ten minutes and still be there five minutes before call time. Sunggyu's still stuck in bed, anyway; Myungsoo gave him a call earlier and the sound of bedsheets rustling gave Sunggyu away.

"Ah, this is good," Baekhyun whispers as he removes the cover of his coffee cup. He takes a sip and seethes when the liquid scalds his tongue. "Okay, _definitely_ not good. I hate it. This is awful."

Myungsoo rolls his eyes but takes a whiff of the scent, nonetheless. It smells a lot like childhood and days spent studying and nothing else during winter. It would be nice if they all went back to being kids and didn't have to worry about paying the rent, the bills, thinking of how to get from one freelance job to the other. It would be _ideal,_ but that's not possible anymore. He uncaps his drink, then, the thick scent of coffee seeping from the narrow opening until Myungsoo removes the cover all the way. They're twenty-eight and they're in a studio. The production crew has begun setting up the lights around them. The redheads aren't on yet, though. The temperature in the room is still a bearable kind of cold and not sweltering hot because of the lights. But they _are_ set to work in a while, and this is one of the last few minutes that he can study Baekhyun's features before he stations himself behind a camera and uses it as a shield against Baekhyun's shy smile.

"Tell it off. It's being rude," Myungsoo comments after a while. He takes a sip of his coffee. When he looks up, he sees Baekhyun staring, eyebrows furrowed in question. "I meant your hot choco. It was being rude when it burned your tongue. How dare it do something like that to SM's budding artist? That asshole."

Baekhyun snorts. "Can't tell whose side you're on."

"I'm on my side. There's a reason why I like coffee over hot chocolate."

"Coffee's too bitter. I added a shot of espresso to my drink."

Huh. What a coincidence. "Then that's a fake chocolate drink. Make up your mind, kid."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him, leaning in for the briefest of moments before pulling away with his cup of hot chocolate in his hands. His lips are parted as if he's poised to say something but felt the sting of the burn on his tongue just as soon as he found the right words to say. Then he's blowing a hole at the malt of his drink, mumbling, "Don't call me a kid. We're of the same age. That would make you a kid, as well."

Myungsoo shrugs. He turns the other way, coffee in tow as he stands from his seat. "Then we can be kids together," he whispers, finishing with a wink. He walks over to where the crew's setting up the soft box, then, and gives them a sketch of where he wants each studio light to be. He attaches a honeycomb grid to one of the redheads and tilts the light up just a little so that it's bouncing off the white background but still spilling over just a bit to where the stool is. He walks over to the middle of the set, then, studying how the light spills on his body. Trying to imagine how Baekhyun would look if the light hit him in a certain way, if they don't use a soft box for the first few shots. They can do something more dramatic, something darker for the autumn concept. It suits the vibe of the song more.

He lets out a long exhale, then walks over to where his camera is. He tinkers with the exposure settings of his camera, then fires a shot. The lights go off, a blinding blink accompanied by a loud beeping sound. Myungsoo laughs a little, to himself. It's been far too long since he's last heard the music of studio lights singing with the click of the shutter.

"You need me anywhere?" Baekhyun asks, then, walking closer to the set. His cup's still on the table, along with his cap. His hair is a mess; the stylists will be furious. His cheeks are flushed just a little, a nice shade of pink that breathes life into his otherwise sleepy features. They can start the shoot even if Baekhyun isn't made up yet. The fans will love this idol – sloppy-haired Byun Baekhyun in a plaid polo two sizes bigger than his usual size, pants not tattered but fading out into an interesting shade of icy white. His jacket hangs from his shoulders like they're about to slip off anytime. Baekhyun plops down on the stool even before Myungsoo gets to say 'okay', slumping forward jutting out his bottom lip as he looks straight into the lens. "Is this good?"

Myungsoo cranes his neck, then ducks to look into the viewfinder. "First redhead, I need that closer to him. Forward–" Light slowly crawls up Baekhyun's neck, all the way up until it lifts the dark circles under Baekhyun's eyes and illuminates the rest of his features. Now _this_ is the morning. This is the perfect 8 a.m. light hitting Baekhyun the right way, turning his dark brown hair two shades lighter. From where Myungsoo is, Baekhyun almost looks as if he's glowing.

Through the viewfinder, with the right cropping and Baekhyun tilting his chin up, Baekhyun looks like a real model. Like he's been practicing for this for so long already, has been training with SM for years and not only months. Like he was made for this – the studio lights, the thick crowd building up around them that's 90% the production crew and 10% other people from SM. There's fame in the slope of his neck when he holds his head up high, looking at the camera with half-lidded eyes. And there's the promise of a bright future in the way his lips tug up just a little, softening the autumn look and turning it into something warmer. Something _more Baekhyun._ Spring.

Myungsoo presses down on the shutter release and takes a photo of this set up, this moment. He's set lights to be continuous this time, so they don't blink only to return brighter than before and to startle Baekhyun. Baekhyun doesn't even budge, only blinks at the camera, the hard angles of his jaw softening all the more when Myungsoo tells the crew to turn on the soft box.

"Perfect," he whispers just loud enough for himself to hear. Baekhyun shifts in his seat, trying a different pose. He has his back propped against his arms. Myungsoo can see the hard angles of Baekhyun's jaw all the more, then three lines of red on his cheek. He adjusts, then, turning the shutter speed one stop faster but making the opening bigger. He needs less details and a nice blur on the cheeks. He doesn't need Baekhyun's imperfections highlighted in this test shoot; he just has to show the stylists what they have to work on hiding. "Absolutely perfect."

Baekhyun snorts then cocks an eyebrow in Myungsoo's direction. "Hey, don't fall in love with my pretty face now," he calls out, voice lilting. The last syllable spills from his lips in a drawl. It sounds more like breathing. "I won't be held accountable for that."

"Yeah, sure," Myungsoo yells right back. He's satisfied with the lighting now, positive that it will bring out Baekhyun's personality more once Baekhyun actually gets into character and in his photoshoot clothes. They still have half an hour to themselves, half an hour until more scrutinizing eyes watch them with interest and follow their every move. So he pulls way from the camera, leaves it on but puts on the lens cap just in case some knocks it down or accidentally damages the glass of the lens. He doesn't go through his test shots but, instead, fishes for his print out of the shot list from his pocket.

He locks his arms behind his back and meets Baekhyun's gaze, saying, "I won't." Baekhyun nods in acknowledgement and chuckles. "I promise."

ミ☆

For someone who's as chatty and seemingly outgoing as Baekhyun, his smile always falls short on the sincerity department when he has studio lights shining down on him.

"Nope. That's not it. Just– Relax your jaw a bit." Myungsoo slips the camera strap on, wearing it around his neck as he unmounts the camera from the tripod. Baekhyun was okay the first few times, but as with all talents his cheeks have begun to shake and his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore. At least there's still a small smile on the corners of his lips, but there's no denying the way Baekhyun's cheek muscles clench when Myungsoo starts counting down from three. It's understandable – out of all the things any talent is asked to do in front of the camera, smiling like you're the most harmless, most lovable person is the most difficult of them all. Bright laughter is easy to fake, as with a moving speech, but a genuine smile is hard to carve out of a template. There's no secret formula to it. You just discover it as you go along, as you carry out your talent or idol duties.

The first few months, Jaejoong looked as if he was half-grimacing and half-wanting to throw up everytime he tried to smile. It was only until he delivered his speech – unrehearsed – on stage after receiving the Newcomer of the Year award that he was able to nail the smile he's long been practicing.

"I said _relax_ your jaw. Stop practicing your smile," Myungsoo says as he inches closer. He slaps Baekhyun's hand away when Baekhyun smiles his cheeks together and pulls them up. "You're going to ruin your make up. You don't want Tiffany to get mad mad. She turns into a hydra and shoots out flames from her nostrils when she does."

A few feet away, Tiffany says, "His make-up's smudge-proof! I made sure it is!"

Baekhyun cocks his head in Tiffany's direction. "What she said," he mumbles, but drops his hands to his sides when Myungsoo hits the back of his hand again. " _Okay,_ I'm stopping. Geez. I'm just trying to get it right, okay? The redheads are making me melt. I just want to get this done and over with."

"Then take a break and drink water. I'll figure something out."

Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows. "The smile depends on the talent, not the photographer."

"But a good photo is a combination of the photographer's skill and the talent not being stubborn as fuck." He raises an eyebrow at Baekhyun, purses his lips. "Drink water. Take a piss. Come back in five minutes a better, less stubborn man. _Then_ we'll pick up from where we've left off."

Baekhyun huffs. He holds Myungsoo's gaze, the tight knot of his eyebrows easing into a gentle curve once the redheads are turned off. Without the right studio lights and magic, he looks less like an idol, more like a trainee who got a bit too enthusiastic with slapping make up on his face until it got too thick and heavy. Like he's trying to cover up something that his eyes will always, _always_ give away. "Fine. I'll... I'll be back. We'll nail this, I promise," he says, then turns on his heel. He looks over his shoulder, though, looking at Myungsoo in the eye. "You want anything? Coffee, tea, juice? Water? Snacks?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. "It's not your job to feed me."

"Yeah, but it's my job to keep you alive throughout this shoot. Who'll shoot my pretty face and body if you collapse due to fatigue?"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes, shivers a little when Baekhyun chuckles. Now _that's_ a better look on Baekhyun. His eyes are soft and his lips are tugged up at the corners just a little. His shoulders are slumped forward but not so much. His hands aren't clenched in a tight fist. If he had the trigger for the shutter release, he'd press it right now, but he dropped the whole photographer act when he stepped away from the camera. Now, he's just Kim Myungsoo, Baekhyun vocal coach from time to time, his friend.

"Nah, I'm good. I don't eat while working. It keeps me focused," he says after a while. He's still full from the heavy breakfast, sort of; he should last a few more hours until the hunger becomes unbearable. "And keeps my hands free of grease. Can't get dirt and oil on my camera."

"Then I'll feed you."

He cocks an eyebrow at Baekhyun. He drops his gaze to Baekhyun's hands, then, tracing the length of Baekhyun's fingers with them. He has nice, slender fingers that Myungsoo won't mind eating off of, but then they've only know each other for what – a couple of weeks? Two months? The first time Sunggyu fed him with his hands was that time when they climbed Seoraksan and Myungsoo couldn't hold utensils properly anymore because of fatigue. He paid Sunggyu in kind when they got down from the mountain, carrying half of Sunggyu's load. He'd already known Sunggyu for at least a year and a half already that time. He could very well drink water from Sunggyu's cupped hands without a second thought.

And then another was when Woohyun cooked pancakes – or at least they were supposed to be pancakes, but they ended up looking like some weird blobs of cooked flour. "The technique is to turn the formless blobs into something– _There._ " Then Woohyun held up the three-dimensional pancake heart between them with one hand and cupped Myungsoo's cheek with the other. "Okay, open up–"

Myungsoo shakes his head now and takes a deep breath. "Just... Just get your damned glass of water and come back as soon as possible," he mutters all in one breath.

"Suit yourself," Baekhyun says, then saunters forward. Myungsoo keeps his eyes on his feet until he hears Baekhyun's steps fade out, drowned by the noise all around them.

Baekhyun returns a few minutes after, both of his hands a tray with glasses of water and a lollipop between his lips. He inches closer, stopping only when the distance between them thins to twelve long inches. He tilts his head in the direction of one glass, then, as if saying, c'mon, take it. I can't drink these alone. But he can. After practice, Baekhyun empties out two bottles of water within three minutes. Two minutes if he's feeling more parched than the usual. So Myungsoo doesn't take it yet until Baekhyun leans in and mumbles something with the lollipop in his mouth. It sounds a lot like, 'mhiff you don't get this wower then I'll haf ta drink it myself.'

Myungsoo takes both glasses. "Put the tray down," he says, then, and hands one glass to Baekhyun once he's tucked the tray under his arm. "I told you, I neither eat nor drink during shoots, even during short breaks. It keeps me focused and my momentum high."

Baekhyun finally pulls the lollipop out, his lips coming off in a dull 'pop'. Myungsoo snatches a peek of Baekhyun's tongue burning the brightest shade of pink. Even his lips, the corners of his mouth are of the same shade. There's no hint of the cracks on his lips or the pale shade it once was. It makes him look more awake and alive, sort of breathes color into him and that even Tiffany's superior make up skills couldn't provide. There's a nice balance of the idol and the Baekhyun look. Maybe they should use the lollipop as props, try to reinvent the autumn concept and make it a return to childhood since Christmas is just around the corner.

"You look really pale, though," Baekhyun says. He takes a deep breath, shoulders rising in tandem with his noisy breathing. Then inches even closer, until the tips of their shoes bump. The collision thaws out Myungsoo's toes a little. They feel as if they've been caged in his shoes for so long already; it's only been two hours since the shoot started. Baekhyun reaches for something from his back pocket then leans in, slipping something in the pocket of Myungsoo's polo. "Or maybe that's just the lighting. The redheads made you look a bit more alive earlier. I dunno how that happened."

Myungsoo leans back just a little and drops his gaze to whatever Baekhyun had slipped in his pocket. The edge of a stick peeks from the tiny opening. So he tugs at it, pulls until he can see the round head of a lollipop. He holds it up between them, using it to coax Baekhyun to pull away. Baekhyun doesn't, though. He's still there, only a few dangerous inches away, that if Myungsoo wanted to know how Lotte's 'strawberries and cream' lollipop tasted then he could just lean in and lick it off of Baekhyun's lips.

_Contract,_ he reminds himself. This isn't part of the contract. His job is to bring out the best in Baekhyun through proper lighting and directing. His job is to somehow find a balance between the concept and the themes in Baekhyun's songs _and_ character he's trying to project. It doesn't involve memorizing the details of Baekhyun's face, the curve of his cheeks, the angles of his jaw and the slope of his neck. He doesn't have to map out Baekhyun's moles from just above his top lip to the dip of his nape. He just has to stick to the job description and do what the contract is asking him to do.

Work, not play. You should know better now, he tells himself. He tries to even out his breathing but Baekhyun hasn't backed off yet, hasn't inched away.

"Coffee flavor," Baekhyun whispers. The corners of his mouth tug up just behind the lollipop. The bright blob of pink is distracting; the movement of Baekhyun's thin lips, even more. "Thought you might... like it since you took your coffee black earlier."

"My coffee is as black as my mind. It's a very dark place," Myungsoo mumbles. Still, he unwraps the lollipop and pops the candy between his lips. If that's what will appease Baekhyun and make him back off, then he'll do it against his wishes. He'll even make a show of licking the candy in front of Baekhyun if that's what it takes for Baekhyun to give him the go signal to breathe again. "And this... lollipop tastes great. Thank you."

Baekhyun grins, but it's gone as soon as Myungsoo blinks. It would've been great if Baekhyun wore it longer than he should, wore it until they were done with the shoot because–

"Baekhyun, I–" Myungsoo furrows his eyebrows and takes a deep breath. "What if you try wearing your big smile for the shoot? Bare your teeth; they're nice and shiny, anyway. Your smile looks more relaxed when you do that. It doesn't look so... commercial."

Baekhyun lifts his eyebrows and his lips fall open into a tiny 'o'. He doesn't look offended, but his cheek muscles are tense again and the glimmer in his eyes that was once there was faded into something darker. A thick shade of black that makes it easier for Myungsoo to see himself in Baekhyun's eyes. "No, that's a bad idea," Baekhyun answers after a while, shaking his head. "I... Really, it's a bad idea. I have fangs and my teeth aren't super white and SM probably won't want fans to think that they're taking care of a wolf boy or something–"

"The fangs are cute. Adds character to your stage persona," Myungsoo retorts. He tilts his head and squints, trying to see what Baekhyun could be worried about. His face doesn't scrunch up in an unattractive manner when he smiles. His eyes don't disappear into slits when he loses himself in a fit of laughter. And he doesn't look half as bad when he's wheezing, trying to knock back the air in his lungs that he lost when he'd let slip laughter from his lips. He looks ten times better than he does in his stage clothes when he's grinning, smiling ear to ear without a care in the world.

"Yeah, it makes me look weird. I'm not doing it." Baekhyun shakes his head. The curve of his lips straightens into a thin line. He can see some of the cracks on Baekhyun's lips now. He'll have to get his make up retouched. Dry lips won't look good on camera. "I'm sorry, Myungsoo, but I know my face best and I _know_ that smiling like that won't look good on me. You think I haven't looked myself in the mirror at least a hundred times just to perfect an idol look?"

"I'm a photographer and I have records of your laughing face on my phone," Myungsoo answers. He slips the lollipop from his lips and licks the corners of his mouth. "And I _know_ you look good smiling while baring your teeth. I don't know what's making you think otherwise."

Baekhyun scoffs. He shakes his head but he doesn't leave yet, does inch away from where he is. Instead, he looks up and meets Myungsoo's gaze. His eyes are a barricaded door. The dark circles under his eyes are showing. His lips are trembling. And his eyebrows are caught between a furrow and a weird twist of confusion that paints his face a different glow.

"I'm not doing it," Baekhyun declares. He takes a deep breath, chest heaving, then turns around. "I'm sorry. I'm getting more water. I'll be back in five."

Myungsoo lets out a soft grunt in acknowledgement and slips the lollipop back between his lips. The image of Baekhyun's stern gaze, the tight corners of his lips burn brightly at the back of his eyelids. It leaves wounds deep enough that when the crew turns on the redheads again, he sees the image flashing right before him everytime he blinks.

And when Baekhyun returns, soft smile and strained cheeks surfacing on his features again, Myungsoo sees the same look reflected in Baekhyun's eyes – mirrored on his own face.

ミ☆

The first session ends at one in the afternoon. Most of the crew has already disappeared to the room next door for lunch but Myungsoo's still on set, still sitting on the stool he used as a makeshift tripod earlier. He goes through the shots he's taken so far, pressing the arrow keys in rapid succession like he's going through an animation of Baekhyun's smile. It was stiff and forced during the first five minutes after the short break, but eventually Baekhyun eased into a more comfortable state. Then he started smiling his usual smile again, the one that would pull up at the corners of his lips before he pressed the back of his palm to them. The one Myungsoo has at least a hundred pictures of, sorted to different folders in his phone.

He stops when he chances upon a picture of Baekhyun just about to laugh. Or at least that's what it looks like, because his eyes are uneven and his cheekbones are up high and his lips look as if they're about to fall open any second. He's caught between losing himself to the grin threatening to pull at the corners of his lips and still trying to look on camera. And Myungsoo catches himself staring at the photo far longer than he should, taking in the sight of the gentle swell of Baekhyun's bottom lip.

There are still hints of the bright pink from the lollipop that the lip balm Tiffany applied in Baekhyun's lips wasn't able to hide. It breathes more life into Baekhyun, separates him from those other idols who are too perfect on cam, pretending too much that they lose a sense of their real selves.

"That's a good take," comes a voice from over his shoulder. It sounds familiar, too familiar, in fact, that it sends a funny shiver down Myungsoo's spine. Myungsoo shifts in his seat a little and looks up, meeting the person's gaze. "He's still looking straight to cam in that one, right? We can use that, I think. Mark that one; I'll find a way for us to have that in the final print. It's too good to be put to waste."

"Thanks," Myungsoo mumbles, laughing a little. He lets his shoulders slump, then leans back against Sunggyu's side. Sunggyu drops a cool hand on his shoulder, then, drumming his fingers on the protruding bone before rubbing circles on Myungsoo's tense muscles with his thumbs. "That means a lot. And that feels good."

What he means is, thank you for your vote of confidence. Your talent was being difficult earlier. He gave me a hard time. But hey, at least everything still worked out in the end. We got good takes, a handful of them. All is good. Still, Myungsoo can't help but wonder what the hissy fit was about. Baekhyun might complain about backaches and sore muscles from time to time, but he's never reacted violently to Myungsoo airing out his opinion. In fact, he's always sought him out, has always asked for his opinion ever since that day Myungsoo gave him a tiny, tiny build on the way he sang his winter ballad. So he should be able to take a build as simple and harmless as baring his teeth when smiling, right?

None of the puzzle pieces fit. They don't even belong to the same puzzle. None of this makes sense.

A wave of silence wraps around them for a while. Myungsoo closes his eyes, his grip on the camera tightening. The lights are fast becoming too blinding. After three and a half hours of shooting and directing, the briefest moment of silence and respite already feels like a leisure. It doesn't _feel_ unsettling, though. It's comfortable enough that he finds himself swaying to some music ringing in his ears. Maybe one of those songs that was playing on the stereo earlier. Baekhyun's autumn track on loop and the less vocals version of it, then a violin version of it.

"Heard the tiny argument earlier," Sunggyu begins, voice so soft he could've been whispering. Slowly, Myungsoo opens his eyes. Sunggyu gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "You won't be able to convince him to give you a big smile. I remember him complaining about coming across this... post by one of his fans saying that he should bare his teeth, flash it at people because a big smile looks better on him. And honestly, it does. But anyway, I asked him why he wasn't so sold on that feedback, and he just said, 'Hyung, shut up. You don't know anything.' He even held up one hand in my face."

Myungsoo furrows his eyebrows. "Really? That... that doesn't sound like something he'd do."

"I know. I mean, I'm pretty sure he hates me 51% of the time, but that was the only time he told me to shut up. He doesn't even raise his voice at me. He's obnoxious, at most, but not _rude._ He isn't as annoying as he believes he is." Sunggyu scratches the slope of his neck, two fingers moving up and down the expanse of skin. He adds, "It doesn't make sense at all." Sunggyu blows at his bangs, then, but he only succeeds at blowing cool air into his nostrils. Soon, he's shivering a little and blinking in rapid succession, not stopping until his eyes are a bit watery and glimmering under the fluorescent lights.

"Well, at least he gave me a hug the following day and gave me candy as a peace offering," Sunggyu continues. He cracks his knuckles, then says, "He sounded pretty repentant. Or at least I think he did. I've been told I'm too nice to my kids."

Myungsoo snorts. He leans back, resting his head on Sunggyu's hip as he lets out a low exhale. Sunggyu slides his hand up, then, ruffling Myungsoo's hair then massaging his scalp. His fingers are cool to touch, but Sunggyu's movement is slow and gentle, almost like he's holding a tiny puppy in his hands and running his hands through its fur.

Myungsoo lets out a contented purr and hums. "I think they were talking about a different Sunggyu, hyung. That couldn't have been you."

Sunggyu narrows his eyes at him and digs his nails into Myungsoo's scalp response. Still, it doesn't hurt, and neither does it sting. And Sunggyu hasn't walked away yet. He's still there, easing the pressure he's just applied on Myungsoo's scalp and bringing his hand down to massage Myungsoo's temples.

"Remind me why I keep you around?" Sunggyu asks after a while.

Myungsoo laughs a little. "Because I'm your most talented friend."

Sunggyu groans. When he drops his hand to his side, he pulls up the stool nearby and sits beside Myungsoo. They go through the first set of shots, marking the good ones and just scrolling past the ones that aren't as pretty. Myungsoo studies the movement of Baekhyun's muscles in the frames, the way his cheeks tense and relax in every other shot, the way his smile lifts the thin veil of projection keeping people from seeing past the mask he's wearing.

ミ☆

He runs into Baekhyun in the washroom after lunch. He hadn't seen him in the buffet earlier, when he and Sunggyu finally decided to join the crew in the next room. He wasn't at the rooftop, either, where most SM trainees contemplate how they've been spending the past year and then some, slaving their asses off. "I did that once, when rumors about SHINee's disbandment were floating around. I knew I wasn't to blame but I felt like I had a share in the shit that went down, you know what I mean?" Sunggyu even said, and Myungsoo only nodded in response. It's not the schedule that drives idols or the managers insane; it's the pressure that comes with having to be these perfect robots manufactured by their respective companies, the pressure of maintaining an image with the weight of the company's name heavy on their shoulders. The pressure of keeping SM's name clean and pristine, even if they had to bleach themselves just to save the company's face.

Baekhyun hasn't even debuted yet but Myungsoo can already see the strain in Baekhyun's smile when their eyes meet. His cheeks look like stiff mounds of clay that have been left out in the cold for too long. There's still color in them, but not as bright as before. He'll have to get that retouched by Tiffany. And Tiffany won't be happy about it because, 'I told you, Baekhyunnie. _Don't_ do anything funky that can ruin your make-up. Jesus–'

"I'm sorry about the stink. I... I had to take a dump. My stomach was acting up," Baekhyun says as a greeting. He looks away, dropping gaze to the sink to his right. Myungsoo follows the movement of his eyes until he sees Baekhyun's eyes reflected on the mirror. For a moment, he thinks Baekhyun won't notice, but soon Baekhyun's taking in a sharp breath and his eyes are widening. And he's looking at Myungsoo's reflection on the mirror, the tips of their fingers just spaces apart on the counter.

Got you, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. And he got you, too, the sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach roars in response. It's never a win-win situation with Baekhyun; there's always one aspect in which Myungsoo will inevitably lose.

"Well, I can usually hold it in, I swear." Baekhyun chuckles. It sounds more like nervous laughter, though. It echoes in the bathroom, loud and forceful. Myungsoo shivers a little at the sound. "It's just that today–"

"–is your first real photoshoot. I understand," Myungsoo finishes for him. He keeps his voice low, faint, as if they're sharing secrets and that being heard by someone else would mean their death. It doesn't. It just means Baekhyun losing his carefree image and the look of horror on his face right now being imprinted in everyone's minds. It's not yet the end of his career; it's just the start of a new challenge in his idol life.

But Baekhyun makes no effort to wipe the look off his face. Right now, he looks as if he just wants to run away and hide, curl up in a corner and just get some rest. What remains of his make up spells 'idol' in big, bold letters, but the downward pull on his cheeks is screaming, 'where do I undo the contract and, consequently, undo my life?' And it's unsettling. Myungsoo hasn't taken off the mask of a smile yet, but he can feel his toes curling in without him even meaning to. He can feel his fingers going cold. And he can feel his insides turning, lurching and twisting like he's the one who's spent hours in front of the camera and not Baekhyun.

He shakes the feeling off and takes a deep breath. He clenches his fists, then says, "You did well this morning, by the way. We went through the whole set and got a handful of good takes." He nods, then tilts his head a little so he can see Baekhyun's face better. "Not bad for a first-timer. I'm proud of you."

Baekhyun's eyebrows lift, eyes widening in accord. It loosens the tightness in his cheeks, unlocks his jaw. It helps him breathe better. "Oh?" Baekhyun whispers, then, and the corners of his lips quirk up in response. It's as if it's taking the rest of his body to catch up, eyes still unfocused. He still won't meet Myungsoo's gaze head on, but he hasn't looked away from Myungsoo's reflection on the mirror just yet. "Uh, wow. Thanks. Good job, me?"

Myungsoo chuckles. He reaches out, meaning to ruffle Baekhyun's hair, but remembers that Baekhyun's wearing gel and hairspray and at least two more hair products. So, instead, he rests his hand on Baekhyun's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Baekhyun's body gives a tiny jerk, and then he's looking up and into Myungsoo's eyes. _Finally,_ Myungsoo wants to say, but half of him regrets the eye contact because now he can see the uncertainty in Baekhyun's eyes better. It's like looking into Baekhyun's eyes only to be greeted by a stranger. Like finding anyone, _everyone_ but Baekhyun in them.

Baekhyun blinks. A few more times, then his vision refocuses. The tight corners of his mouth loosen into a cheeky, lazy smile, then the doppelganger is gone. There Baekhyun is again, looking so small in his already tiny frame as he scratches the back of his hand.

"Don't do that," Myungsoo whispers. He swats Baekhyun's hand away, revealing bright red marks on Baekhyun's dry skin. "You're damaging your skin. You have to take care of yourself so you can get back there looking better than ever. Then we can finish the shoot and maybe go home early." Or maybe spend time together elsewhere, alone in a van with nothing but silence to pull them together and keep them apart.

The smile on Baekhyun's falters. He's jutting out his bottom lip and sticking out his tongue and _pinching_ Myungsoo in the stomach. Soon, he's balling his hands into loose fists in Myungsoo's shirt, twisting his fists until he can dig his knuckles into Myungsoo's skin and earn a yowl. "You just want me for my face."

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at Baekhyun. He can't say Baekhyun's wrong – it _was_ Baekhyun's face that reeled him in, after all, Baekhyun's face that made him do a double-take and _really_ look at him – but his face isn't the only reason Myungsoo's still here. There's the language of Baekhyun's body that he communicates so well he dances, albeit a bit awkwardly. There's the way he captures people's hearts with his sweet voice like he's trying to get people's attention and making them listen. And there's the mystery behind his smile, the secret written on the back of Baekhyun's right hand that he presses to his lips whenever he feels like he's about to cackle loud and hard. Myungsoo wants to capture these on film, blow up Baekhyun's photos so he can examine each quirk of Baekhyun's body and the way he sings through his limbs.

So if anyone asks where the fascination stems from then, yes, he can always blame Baekhyun's interesting face. Everything starts with a tiny kernel of amusement, after all, lodged somewhere in Myungsoo's insides, keeping his body from functioning properly. Keeping it from making sense.

He blinks a few times, resurfacing, and finds Baekhyun staring at him, head tilted and his gaze dancing on the jut of Myungsoo's upper lip. He laughs a little, trying to restore the feeling in his lips, trying to loosen his throat.

"I guess you got me," he mumbles after a while. He licks the back of his teeth. He can still taste the coffee-flavored lollipop Baekhyun had given him earlier. It's nice and a nice mix of bitter and sweet. It sticks to his tongue longer than it should. He wonders if it would taste the same on Baekhyun's lips. "But I mean it, We need you back on set. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can take off your make up and we can turn off the redheads that annoy you so much."

"They don't annoy me. They–" Wash you out, hide you from the rest of the world without meaning to. Myungsoo doesn't say any of those. Instead, he waits until Baekhyun continues, "–hurt my eyes."

"Well, they annoy me," Myungsoo admits. He's always been a fan of ambient lighting, after all. And Baekhyun looks best when the sun is shining down on him. "Too hot and too harsh–"

"And maybe I overreacted this morning," Baekhyun whispers. He bites the inside of his cheek and makes half a blowfish face. It's almost cute, but then he's also drowning. Myungsoo just sort of... wants to reach out to pull up one corner of Baekhyun's lips– "No, not just maybe. I did. I'm sorry. It's stupid. I should've just done what you asked me to do. You _are_ the photographer, after all. You probably won't make me do something that will make me look ugly in photos. That'll just reflect badly on you. And..." He sucks in his bottom lip this time, dropping his gaze to where he has his hands balled into fists in Myungsoo's shirt. "And it's just a waste of time. That's not something you'd do."

Baekhyun twists his fists in Myungsoo's shirt even more and pulls him closer with a light tug. Or maybe it's just the jerk of Myungsoo's own body when he feels Baekhyun's knuckles digging into his skin. It can be both. He can feel the light shaking of Baekhyun's hands against his skin, can hear the loud thumping behind his ears. He can feel the pulse at the back of his knees. Baekhyun isn't even touching him. And Baekhyun grip isn't too tight, but it's enough to keep Myungsoo in place. Slowly, he unfurls one hand and drops it to Myungsoo's hip as if to assure himself that Myungsoo can't go anywhere even if he tried. It's not as if he plans to escape.

"So yeah. I'm... sorry. For that outburst. I just– I hate it when people force me to do things that I'm not accustomed to. I know I should be more open to suggestions since you guys are pros in your line, but– I _know_ my face. I know my body. And I'd like to think I know myself well enough to say that a big grin won't ever suit me. It just... makes me look–"

Baekhyun's lips are poised to make a 'w' sound, but Myungsoo pays no attention to that. Instead, he continues in his mind, 'it makes me look nice'. Because it's true. He has albums upon albums of proof whose existence Baekhyun can't deny. And even to the untrained eye, even to a casual fan, it would be so obvious that Baekhyun 'looks more Baekhyun' when he looks as if he's about to lose all sense of control and just laugh his ass off.

"Cute," Myungsoo whispers at the same time that Baekhyun mumbles 'weird'. Baekhyun looks up at him with wide eyes, his lips pursed in a weird twist.

"It looks _what?_ " Baekhyun asks. Myungsoo swallows hard. "What did you say?"

"It's okay," Myungsoo answers. Lies, a voice at the back of his mind screams. Stop lying, Kim Myungsoo. You're too old for this. "It doesn't look so bad."

"No, you said something else. Something–" A corner of Baekhyun's lips tugs up. He yanks on Myungsoo's shirt and pulls him even closer. "Something that sounds like–"

Like danger, because Baekhyun is so dangerously close right now. He's close enough that Myungsoo can see his make up caking under his eyes, near his nose. He's close enough that Myungsoo can smell the sick mix of strawberry lollipop and sweat and foundation on Baekhyun's skin. Myungsoo leans back, then, one centimeter for every forward motion of Baekhyun makes, his teeth grinding against each other every time Baekhyun's breath, hot and wet, catches on his skin. It makes him shiver all over, makes his toes curl inside his shoes and makes his chest constrict. He holds his breath, holds it all in where his chest feels the fullest and doesn't move until Baekhyun's lips tug up in a smile. Sunggyu was lying. This isn't Baekhyun being repentant. This is Baekhyun playing a different game that he knows very well he'll win no matter what.

"We have to go back," Myungsoo whispers. He checks his watch – ten minutes 'til the hour. Baekhyun still needs to get his make up retouched. He needs time to gather himself again, to still the racing in his chest. To catch his breath. They can't waste any time. "Just– Just do better when–" He gulps hard. His teeth are chattering. Baekhyun's eyes are still on him, focused, tracing the bridge of his nose and settling on his lips. And Baekhyun's hands are cold. He can feel it through the press of Baekhyun's hand on his hip, can feel it even more when Baekhyun splays the fingers of his other hand on Myungsoo's abdomen. Their pulses are fast, moving in tandem with each other. There's a rhythm to it, so much that they could be singing through the beating of their pulses on each other's skin. They could be singing to each other. Or maybe screaming, _what the actual fuck are we doing?_

Myungsoo wants to laugh. At least he isn't alone. At least Baekhyun's shaking all over, as well. At least Baekhyun's feeling how unbearable the heat in the room is, pulling away but not quite dropping his hands to his sides yet.

"You're right. We should–" Baekhyun licks his lips, swiping his tongue along the swell of his top lip. Myungsoo swallows hard. "We should go back. We have a shoot. Afternoon session. Work," he says all in one breath. He chokes on the last few syllables. Myungsoo winces at the dissonance.

_Work._ "Right," Myungsoo replies. He straightens up, running his hand down his front to even out the creases on his polo. It felt different when it was Baekhyun's hand that was pressing down on his skin, when it was Baekhyun's pulse drumming beats on his stomach. "Let's go."

Baekhyun's halfway out the door when he turns around, then wraps his fingers around Myungsoo's wrist. "Thanks. For understanding," he whispers, then leans in just enough to brush his lips against the tip of Myungsoo's nose. Then he leans closer, tilts his head just so until he can lean forward to press his lips to a corner of Myungsoo's mouth. His grip on Myungsoo tightens, and for a moment Myungsoo feels his hand go cold and his knees go weak. And Myungsoo can _feel_ the slow-forming smile on Baekhyun's lips, the wicked grin bubbling on the jut of his mouth, the heat of his skin.

Baekhyun pulls away with a light squeak, the shrill sound of a kiss, then presses his lips together in a tight-lipped smile before saying, "Let's go." He straightens his clothes and tucks his hair behind his ears like diligent trainee that he is, like the idol that SM has molded him to be. "Hey, come on, let's go."

None of it happens for more than a few seconds, but Myungsoo feels as if the world has stopped or slowed down just for the two of them. His limbs feel heavy and sore. His soles ache with a twisted kind of pain that both burns and tickles him. And his stomach is turning, _lurching_ in several different directions that he almost feels he might topple over anytime. Baekhyun keeps him on his feet, though, giving his wrist a lazy tug as if reminding him of where they are, of _who_ they are – Byun Baekhyun, the idol, and Kim Myungsoo, the photographer. Co-workers who might be a bit too close for comfort, too close that Myungsoo can taste a hint of Baekhyun on a corner of his lips when he swipes his tongue along the shape of his mouth.

He saunters forward, allowing Baekhyun drag him out of the bathroom, into the corridor, to their set illuminated by lights and the bright voices of people raring to get started on the afternoon session.

"Okay, let's do this!" comes Baekhyun's loud greeting when they slip inside, walking past the doors. Baekhyun drops their linked hands to his side like an act or an article of clothing he's slipping out of for his next performance. Then he claps his hands in the air and assumes his place at the center of the set, undeterred by the harsh lights of the redheads shining down on him. And Myungsoo counts to three as he collects himself, snatches all the breath Baekhyun had stolen from him, as he clenches and unclenches and _clenches_ his fists again in an effort to restore the feeling in his hands.

When he looks into the viewfinder, he catches a glimpse of Baekhyun's open-mouthed, carefree smile. He isn't looking at the camera, eyes unfocused and disappearing into slits as his laughter grows louder, but they can always find a use for this. So he takes a snap of that moment, _takes a moment_ to breathe and remind himself that, _work, work, we're here to work._ He's not here to marvel at the shape of Baekhyun's mouth and his lips burn the brightest shade of pink when he worries them too much.

His hands are still shaking on the body of the camera. They're about to start the next series of shots. Baekhyun's bright smile still burns at the back of his eyelids.

He gulps hard and shakes his head. He laughs to himself, _at himself._ Everything works against him and works to Baekhyun's advantage. It's a lose-lose situation.

ミ☆

The first of four big shoots for Baekhyun's debut comes to a close just before sundown. Five in the afternoon is an early wrap-up time, the earliest Myungsoo has experienced in all the years he's worked in production, but then this project of theirs is nothing like the shoots he does for various brands. Those require him to find a nice balance between aesthetic, ample product exposure, and just plain trying to convince clients that there are things that won't work. This SM project, meanwhile, requires more self-control than anything else.

"Hey, great job," Sunggyu says, raising one hand in the air as he approaches. Myungsoo meets him halfway, taking a few steps forward to slap his hand against Sunggyu's own. Their fingers find a nice fit and Myungsoo would stay there a few more seconds just like old times, but he catches Baekhyun out of the corner of his eyes. Instinctively, he pulls away, dropping his hand to his side. If Sunggyu ever asks, he can always say that his hands are tired, the joints of his fingers ache. Age works to his advantage from time to time. "O–kay. Maybe you should've used your non-clicking hand. How many photos do we have?"

He hadn't been counting, really. He hadn't been paying attention to the camera's built-in counter, either, but he knows for sure that they have enough 'autumn' photos of Baekhyun to last them a year. He can make a mosaic of Baekhyun's photos, if he wanted to, but then that's not part of the requirement. And standard practice tells him not to give more than what the job description expects of him.

"I don't know. 500? 600? Probably more than I've ever taken in the past few months for the exhibit." Myungsoo scratches the base of his nape, then presses down on his tense muscles. It's been a while since he's last felt this kind of ache in his shoulder muscles. Howon calls it 'big-shot camera shoulder ache syndrome'. Myungsoo prefers to call it by its name, plain and simple: repercussions of his hard work. "Your lighting director's really good, by the way. What's his name again? Is he... exclusive to SM?"

Sunggyu chuckles. He fishes for his wallet from inside his coat. Trust Sunggyu to be too paranoid to keep his wallet in his back pocket. He pulls out a card after a while, a couple of characters screaming at Myungsoo in a deep shade of gold. "They're a team, Jongin and Sehun. Everyone in the team's exclusive, save for you, but these two _have_ received special blessing from the higher ups to take on other projects in their spare time so long as they don't work with rival companies."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "They're that good, huh?"

Sunggyu cranes his neck and grins when he sees Jongin and Sehun not too far away. "Nah, they're pretty average. It's just convenient for SM to have people around, at their disposal," he says, voice just loud enough to reach the duo's senses. Jongin acknowledges them with laughter and Sehun cocks an eyebrow at them in question. "They basically grew up here in SM, these two. Trained with the company for a time until one of the managers discovered that they were much more passionate about shooting and producing things."

"That's nice."

"That's a product of hard work, something I'm sure you're pretty familiar with," Sunggyu replies, winking. He locks his arms behind his back and bumps his hip into Myungsoo's. "So, where did you disappear to before we started the second session, huh? You were gone for a while."

He laughs a little, shaking his head lightly. Now that's a good question, he wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he rubs his thumb on the wheel of the camera, feeling the roughness on the pad of his finger in an effort to collect his thoughts and form something coherent out of them. The answer is simple: he went to the bathroom to pee. The responsible director that he was, he thought of looking for Baekhyun because his talent had been missing almost the entire lunch. Then by some twist of fate, they ran into each other in the bathroom. That's it, that's what took place the whole ten, fifteen minutes that he was gone. But that's not the answer Sunggyu is looking for. Myungsoo knows it, can tell from the way Sunggyu's wiggling his eyebrows and from the sly, upward tug on the corners of his lips. And he can tell just by Sunggyu's humming that Sunggyu's already calling him out on whatever bullshit he'll be coming up with in the next few minutes.

"Somewhere," he tries. He worries his bottom lip. He seethes a little when he bites too hard on it, so he darts out his tongue and swipes it along the sore area. Then, like a habit, he licks the corners of his mouth. He can still taste Baekhyun on his lips, can still feel the burn of that brief, feather-light touch earlier. And he can feel it again, the thrumming in his chest and his pulse pounding at the backs of his knees. It's numbing. It makes him feel more alive.

"As far as I know, there's no place called 'somewhere' here in SM. Come on, kid, try harder."

"Bathroom," Myungsoo confesses. He says nothing more, only turns off his camera and places the lens cap back on. It's always good practice to keep the cap on, keep the lens safe and away from harm. Sunggyu may be a good photographer but he doesn't know how to take care of gadgets, his own or someone else's. "We have van service to take us home tonight, right?"

Sunggyu gives a long look, one eyebrow still raised and his lips quirked up into a knowing smile. He doesn't say anything, just holds Myungsoo's gaze for the longest time like he's trying to say, 'If there's something you want to tell me then _say it now._ But if you're not feeling confident enough to spill then at least let me tell you that it's okay. I'm the last person who'll judge you. _It's okay._ ' So Myungsoo keeps his lips pressed together in a thin, thin line, keeps one hand on length of the lens and the other on the body of the camera. He grips it tight. "Hyung, van service?"

Sunggyu blinks. He leans back, the arch of his eyebrows softening. Myungsoo lets out a soft exhale. "Mhmm. It leaves in fifteen minutes. You better get your ass there if you want to ride with the crew." He draws his shoulders back, bones cracking, then continues, "But if you decide to stay a little longer then you can have dinner with us." He drawls the last syllable, like it makes a lot of difference. Over Sunggyu's shoulder, Jongin and Sehun peek. Myungsoo raises two thumbs up at them and mouths, 'til next. "You, me, Baekhyun, a couple others."

"A couple others," Myungsoo echoes, doesn't say, 'Does Baekhyun really have to come? Are you giving me a choice? Or is this actually a trap?' "You're not inviting Jongin and Sehun?"

"Do you want me to?"

"You're the organizer, hyung, not me." He takes a deep breath. A trap, of course. What else would he expect from Sunggyu? "I'll just double-check the place and see if I left any of my filters lying around. I'll come find you when I'm done."

"I need to talk to the prod guys. Go accompany Baekhyun. He'll go crazy if he doesn't have anyone to talk to for more than three minutes."

That's not true, Myungsoo wants to say. Baekhyun's rather comfortable with silence; it just doesn't seem like it. The trick, Myungsoo discovered after sharing too many trips home with Baekhyun, was to break the white noise with a thick sheet of humming for the first five minutes. Then it would be easy for Baekhyun to ease into the silence, to stop humming and just sway his body in song, instead. He did that one time, hummed until Baekhyun rested his head on Myungsoo's shoulder, eyes and body finally adjusting to the darkness of the van. There was still the thin veil of engine noise breaking the silence, reminding them that as with all trips, this, too, would end. For the most part, however, there was nothing around them but the sound of their easy breathing. Five minutes after, he felt Baekhyun's body slumping against his own. A few more seconds and Baekhyun giggled, rousing from his quick nap to say, "Whoops. Sorry. I'm just– I'm so sleepy–" Then he shook his head in response, whispering in Baekhyun's ear, "Get some rest. We still have fifteen minutes."

He meant, _you_ still have fifteen minutes to use me as a pillow. Make the most out of it. Baekhyun seemed to get it and started tapping a light rhythm on Myungsoo's thigh, something that _felt_ a lot like one of his songs. One of the more upbeat songs. The spring track, probably, except a sleepy, twelve midnight arrangement of it Then after a while, he felt the whole weight of Baekhyun's body in his side, numbing his arm and keeping him warm. Even with the cool winter air seeping through the narrow gap of the door, he couldn't feel the cold with Baekhyun's body snug against his. Soon, he, too, had drifted off, head rested against Baekhyun's own and his nose buried in Myungsoo's hair.

It was the jerk of the van that roused him from his sleep, Baekhyun snoring fitfully against his neck. When he got back to his feet, preparing to leave, Baekhyun reached out to curl his fingers around Myungsoo's wrist. "So soon?" Baekhyun said then, looking at him with the sleepiest, saddest eyes. His bottom lip was jutted out. His eyelashes looked exceptionally long that time, each flutter making Myungsoo's insides turn. And Baekhyun was beautiful. If Myungsoo could just snap a picture of him that time then he would, but it was dark. Dim lighting wouldn't do Baekhyun justice.

Then Baekhyun slumped forward, resting his forehead on the seat in front of him. "No, stay," he whispered, then yanked on Myungsoo's wrist. Soon, he was drifting off again. Myungsoo took that as his cue to leave and slip out of the van. Baekhyun's grip on his wrist stung for days.

"Heard you needed company," Myungsoo says, nonetheless, once he's done fixing his things. Sunggyu's still deep in conversation, this time on the phone with someone from SM. Maybe one of the higher ups asking for an update on the shoot. He hopes Sunggyu doesn't fuck up and accidentally tell them about the tiny slip ups: getting trigger-happy during the shoot, disappearing from the set for a good ten, fifteen minutes only to resurface a bit dazed and pink in the cheeks. He slips next to Baekhyun, but maintains a good six inches between them. It does very little to keep him from feeling the warmth of Baekhyun's body, from catching the scent of strawberries in Baekhyun's mouth when Baekhyun scoffs. He cocks an eyebrow at Baekhyun and offers a small smile. "Bored?"

Baekhyun shrugs but he turns to his side, anyway. He gives Myungsoo a once-over like he's seeing him for the first time, _really_ seeing him and taking in the details of his face. Baekhyun's eyes are squinted, his eyes focused and his lips pursed, the small smile that was once there turning into something else that Myungsoo can't quite figure out yet. And his whole body is facing Myungsoo, like he's asking Myungsoo to do his fair share of 'reading' as well.

His chest is open and his arms are in his sides, relaxed at the elbows. He could be saying, 'Do I look bored to you?' or 'Yeah, I _am_ bored and looking to have fun. Any ideas?' Myungsoo can't tell yet. He needs more time to study this look because half the time, Baekhyun has his shields up. The other half, Myungsoo's forcing himself to look into the viewfinder and not straight at Baekhyun, forcing himself to do his job.

But reading Baekhyun _is_ part of his job. It's part of the contract, figuring out Baekhyun's worst angles so he can avoid them and shoot him in his best possible look, instead. And his job – immortalizing people through photos – involves 50% speaking the same body language and 50% white space, figuring out what to do to make the common smile look different, to make the glimmer in his eyes shine even more. And the curve of Baekhyun's body right now is saying, 'Come on, Myungsoo, it can't be too hard to figure out. If you want to know the answer then _just come closer–_ '

"You should get some rest," Myungsoo says after a while. He takes a step to the side, away from Baekhyun to put more breathing space between then, but Baekhyun grabs a fistful of Myungsoo's shirt and pulls him closer. Give it a rest, Myungsoo tells himself. Baekhyun's tired and drained and sometimes people do things without thinking. You're guilty of that sometimes, too. Don't be a hypocrite, Myungsoo. "You really did well today. Good job. You... must be tired."

"Are you?" Baekhyun asks. He kicks on the ground and winces a little when he jams his toes into the floor a bit too much. "Tired, I mean. Maybe you should catch the van with the prod team. That way, you can sleep during the trip. Get a power nap or something–"

"I'm going to dinner with you," Myungsoo blurts out. Baekhyun's eyes widen for a minute then it's gone, replaced instead by a more neutral look betrayed only by the way Baekhyun's eyes curl up at the corners. Myungsoo files this look at the back of his mind, along with the other 'Baekhyun looks' that he needs for future shoots. He's yet to discover Baekhyun's best possible angle, he's positive. There's something new to discover about Baekhyun, after all, something that could've been washed out by the studio lights before that he can see better in ambient lighting. Or in the dim lighting in the bathroom, where the shadows dancing on the curves of Baekhyun's cheeks show Myungsoo _something_ he's never seen before.

He takes a deep breath. Baekhyun's still blinking up at him. There's still a hint of eyeliner on his eyelids, a soft puff of pink on his cheeks. Baekhyun's lips are still chapped. He makes a mental note to call him out on it later. "Dinner, huh?" Baekhyun whispers, voice rough. It cracks somewhere in the middle. He sounds as if he ran five, ten miles without stopping for a water break, or like he's been practicing his routine and singing his heart out for eight hours without resting. "Dinner with me. Okay."

"Sunggyu-hyung said," Myungsoo begins, then worries his bottom lip a little. "You two are having dinner. He invited me earlier, promised to foot the bill." He tries to smile, his mouth already curling at the corners, but his lips still feel sore. Baekhyun hadn't even touched them. "It's not everyday he volunteers to pay for things so–"

"So you're going. Because of hyung's offer. _Of course._ " Baekhyun drawls the sounds of the last sentence, rolls his eyes as he does so. His voice is lower now, his syllables too close to each other that it almost sounds as if he's murmuring. Myungsoo catches his words, nonetheless, keeps his eyes on Baekhyun even if it's becoming increasingly hard to stare at the sun for too long. He almost sounds disappointed, but then maybe he's just worried Myungsoo might eat his share of the meal. Myungsoo won't. He's never snatched food from someone else's plate even if it's Howon's or Sunggyu's. Or even Woohyun's, for that matter. He's not the type of person who'd get something without asking for permission first. "Yeah, free meals are always–" Baekhyun sniffles. "Free meals are nice."

"Alcohol, too."

Baekhyun laughs a little. His lips are still pressed together in a thin, thin line. His cheeks have turned from being pink to a pale flesh. It doesn't make him any less attractive, though. If anything, it makes him look more Baekhyun, less of the idol Myungsoo spent time taking photographs of back in the set. "They don't serve Hallasan in most restos, just sayin'. You might go looking for your precious soju and only end up getting disappointed because they only serve Chamisul and Jinro there."

"Chamisul's okay. Jinro tastes like cough syrup."

"Ah, that means you're not drinking it right." Baekhyun shakes his head, but with the exaggerated movements it looks as Baekhyun's trying to wipe off the dust in the air. "It should taste _sliiiightly_ like vodka if you chill it for a few hours." He pinches at the air, slowly drawing his index finger and thumb together until they touch. He squints his eyes, too – maybe this one's for the 'a few hours' part. Either way, Baekhyun is good at communicating with his body. It's just dancing that he has problems with. "And nope, don't even try to drink it on the rocks. You're not supposed to drink it that way."

Myungsoo chuckles. "You sound like a professional drinker."

Baekhyun shrugs. His lips are slowly tugging up at the corners, though, and the lines of tension on his back are easing into something more relaxed, more... familiar. Sort of like how Baekhyun is when he slumps against the seats in the van and curls up until he falls asleep. "Eh. I do this and that. I used to do magic on the side. The kids _love it._ "

Baekhyun _would_ be good with kids; he's exactly like one. More mature and hardened by experience, though, but there's still the magic word for 'life' dancing on his tongue when he sings. There's still the thirst to prove himself _and_ to improve in the way he always clenches his fists after a good routine, in the way he picks his own performance apart so that he can reconstruct it, do better. Come out the best idol that he can be.

Myungsoo's toes curl at the thought – Baekhyun running around in the park, playing with children and performing magic for them. That would be perfect for the spring track. He'd be perfect for anything that involves being exposed to the light or the sun or anything that makes him burn even brighter.

"So you really do have a lot of tricks up your sleeve, huh?" Myungsoo says, humming.

"Well, I guess you could say that," Baekhyun replies. He saunters forward, swaying from side to side, arms locked behind his back. "Would you like me to show you some of them?"

That's a bad pick-up line, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Maybe Baekhyun's just really wondering if Myungsoo's interested in seeing magic unfold right before his eyes, or if Myungsoo wants to learn a couple of tricks, himself. Or maybe Baekhyun's just bored, because kids who are bored say the weirdest things that make no sense to anyone but themselves. So Myungsoo doesn't say anything, only holds Baekhyun's gaze and cocks an eyebrow at him in response. Baekhyun doesn't back down from the challenge; instead, he moves even closer, resting one hand on Myungsoo's shoulder and letting it slip, tracing the curve of Myungsoo's body with his warm palm.

His hand settles of Myungsoo's hip. If Baekhyun leans even closer and fists his free hand in Myungsoo's shirt, this would be the same as before, when it was just the two of them and the ventilation noise in the bathroom. But Baekhyun doesn't, like everything's just caught up to him – where they are, the production crew just a few feet away, Sunggyu's hovering presence even if he's far away from them. He just keeps his hand there, thumb drawing lazy doodles on the jut of Myungsoo's bone. And he keeps Myungsoo in place by gripping Myungsoo tight and saying, "I asked you a question."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. A few feet away, Sunggyu calls out to them, saying, "I'll just get my coat from the lockers. I'll meet you at the entrance?"

"Yeah," Baekhyun answers. He doesn't even turn to look at Sunggyu, just holds Myungsoo's gaze and smiles a little when he says, "So?"

Myungsoo gulps hard. If, at first, he thought he was imagining things, then he's certain right now that he isn't imagining anything. Baekhyun kissed the tip of his nose earlier, the corner of his mouth. If they didn't have to go back to work then he could've done more, and maybe Myungsoo would've given in. But he didn't. Neither of them did. They weren't teens who'd back each other against the wall and rub against each other. They didn't posses that kind of courage, the blind belief that they could do whatever the hell they wanted, whenever. They're adults now, and at the ripe age of twenty-eight it's difficult to make mistakes and just choke them up to poor judgment. It doesn't work that way.

Baekhyun's still looking at him, head cocked to the side and chin tilted like he can spend hours like this, just waiting for Myungsoo's answer. He licks his lips when he drops his gaze to Myungsoo's mouth. Myungsoo can feel Baekhyun's fingers growing cold, his grip getting tighter by the second. It doesn't hurt, though. If anything, it just makes Myungsoo warmer, thaws him out, helps him breathe.

"I don't mind," Myungsoo answers after a while. He rests his hand atop Baekhyun's own. Baekhyun's skin is so soft, so warm. It feels nice against his palm. This fit feels nice. He gives Baekhyun a light pinch, then, and smiles when Baekhyun groans a little in response. "I could use something new."

He means, I could use a distraction, but not when we're working. After work hours, he can play with Baekhyun for as long as he wants. But when they're on the set, when the studio lights are on Baekhyun, setting him aglow, Baekhyun has to help him focus. The sooner they can get things done, the earlier they can run back to the sandpit and play. Maybe accidentally get some sand in their eyes and ask the other to get out it, blow it away, to kiss the pain away.

Baekhyun's thumb stops moving. The footsteps drawing closer to them are growing louder. He pulls away. "Good," Baekhyun says, then drops his hand to his side. "But first, we have to eat." Then he's walking away, inching closer to where Sunggyu is and father away from Myungsoo.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He rests a hand on his hip, tracing the fit of Baekhyun's hand on his body.

Baekhyun's touch lingers, _burns._

ミ☆

They step outside the restaurant at exactly eleven in the evening. "You have to remember that we're all old," Sunggyu tells them, then promptly buries his nose in his scarf. His cheeks are the brightest shade of red and he's mumbling something against the material, something that sounds a lot like 'stupid schedules and stupid broadcasts and why the hell did I drink this much when I know I'm a fucking lightweight?' Drinking always makes Sunggyu too loose-lipped, too honest, especially to himself. He's a bit too critical of his actions, too, but then he can assume the same role even without the help of alcohol.

He leans against a lamp post and fishes for his phone from his pocket. "'m gonna get us a cab. Get _you two_ a cab and get myself one because I won't fucking drive in this state _I can't feel my legs, fuck–_ " Baekhyun rolls his eyes and guides Sunggyu so that he has his back against the post and his legs are stable. Myungsoo waits for Baekhyun to exit the frame, then takes a picture of Sunggyu with his nose and cheeks too red. He sends that to Howon and says, _see? hyung isn't as strict and evil as most ppl think he is. he's a fun drunk._

_oh ur drinking? or r u done now???,_ Howon replies. Another message comes in, saying, _u need me to pick u up or something? or r u with your cute little model boy who's drunk, as well?_

'Cute little model boy' might be the perfect description for Baekhyun. He _is_ cute, with the way he's taking selcas with Sunggyu's mostly-asleep figure slumped against the post. Once he's done, he kicks Sunggyu's feet and says, in a loud voice, " _Hyung,_ don't fall asleep! You still need to get us a cab!" And Baekhyun isn't much smaller than he is, just a few centimeters shorter, give or take. He just makes Sunggyu look much taller because his shoulders are almost always slumped forward, his back hunched.

Shame, he muses. Baekhyun has broad shoulders. He looks nice in polos that highlight the contour of his body, but he manages to pull off even shirts twice his size. The rest of him looks small, though, without the right stage lights shining down upon him. He looks like a lost kid when he gets one part of his routine wrong, when he studies his reflection on the mirror in the practice room and says, 'Why won't you get things right? You've been doing this for so long already. What's wrong with you?'

_Model._ Myungsoo replaces that with 'talent', retains the 'boy'. Baekhyun has the enthusiasm of a kid but the maturity of someone five years older than his age. He has the energy of an eight-year-old but the body of a forty-year-old, shivering and groaning in distress when the wind blows again.

Myungsoo looks down at his phone and types, _yeah him._ Beside him, he hears Baekhyun sniffling. _cute little model boy._

_u owe me a drink or 2, kid. i want full details on ur drinking exploits_

Myungsoo snorts. _i'll try to recall what happened then text u whatever i remember._

The wind's blowing right against their faces, rousing Sunggyu from his momentary sleep and lifting some snow off the ground. The flecks of snow stick to their pants, then hem of their coats, some even reaching the pockets of Baekhyun's pants. The wind tousles Baekhyun's hair. He isn't wearing a bonnet today, a stupid move since it's the height of winter, but then the forecast didn't warn them about this. It almost feels as if there's a snowstorm brewing, like the next time the wind blows they'll be buried in heaps of snow.

It's not a nice thought. Myungsoo shakes that theory off his shoulders and turns to look at Baekhyun beside him. Baekhyun is fussing with scarf wound around his neck, undoing the knot and forming some weird loops with it like he means to wrap it around his head, instead. Baekhyun stops midway through, though, tucking his hair behind his ears, then throws the other end of the scarf over his shoulder to he can work on his makeshift hood.

"Hang on–" Myungsoo says, reaching out to flick some snow out of Baekhyun's eyelashes with his thumb. He rests his other hand on Baekhyun's shoulder and Baekhyun closes his eyes at once, like he's just been issued a tall order. His lashes flutter. They look like thin butterfly wings that breathe more color into Baekhyun's red-rimmed eyes. They aren't long, but they do curl at the ends just enough to soften Baekhyun's eyes. He's really pretty. "There's more on your bangs–"

"Take 'em off," Baekhyun whispers. It sounds loud, though, like they're too close that there's nothing else Myungsoo can hear but Baekhyun's voice and thumping pulse at the back of his ears. Baekhyun _is_ close, enough that Myungsoo can count the tiny balls of snow on the bridge of Baekhyun's nose if he wanted to. If he can't make out the details then he can just lean in, squint his eyes, study Baekhyun from a much closer distance–

Baekhyun blows at his bangs. His breath is a sick mix of hot and cold when it catches on Myungsoo's skin. Baekhyun is warm – no, he's _hot_ like a furnace, cheeks burning an interesting shade of red as he worries his bottom lip. "I said," he begins, voice lower and even rougher, like the cold weather is clawing on his throat and leaving nasty scratches there. "I said, take 'em off." He looks at his nose this time, going cross-eyed for a moment until Myungsoo's dusting off the snow on Baekhyun's skin. He's drunk. It's obvious in the way he slurs his words, in the way he sways from side to side without the rhythm that his body usually possesses. And Myungsoo can smell it in his breath – soju and beer and spices and a hint of melon from the ice cream he'd eaten to sober himself up.

"You missed a spot," Baekhyun whispers, pursing his lips and jutting them in the direction of his nose. Myungsoo stops, stares for a while, eyes drawn to the movement of Baekhyun's lips, to the cracks on Baekhyun's bottom lip. Fucking fix _that,_ he wants to tell Baekhyun, but he's drunk. Maybe he's a little too drunk – on the sense of fulfillment after being able to do a nice enough studio shoot for the first time in years, on the fact that he _finally_ took a leap of faith and flicked on the studio lights again. His limbs are heavy and his nape aches and lips are sore – from drinking too much alcohol or the cold or from being bitten too much, he can't tell. And Baekhyun keeps catching his bottom lip between his teeth, teasing it and teasing Myungsoo. "Yah, there's still–"

"Got it," Myungsoo says, then leans in just a little to blow the fleck of snow away. When he pulls away, he sees Baekhyun's flushed cheeks, the tentative smile on the corners of his lips.

"Thanks," Baekhyun whispers, then takes a step back. Their bodies are no longer in a snug fit, but Baekhyun is still close. Myungsoo can still feel the warmth of Baekhyun's body from where he is.

Beside them, Sunggyu's flashing his phone in the air and waving at _something._ Must be the cab approaching them. Or maybe this is Sunggyu's way of saying, 'SM frowns upon office romance, I'm just saying–'

"You... You can take that cab and go ahead, if you want," Baekhyun says after a while. He hugs his jacket closer to his body as the taxi slows down, pulling over a foot away. "I can probably hail one around the block, once I get hyung into a cab of his own. I've never seen him this drunk."

I've never seen him this happy, either, Myungsoo wants to say. Sunggyu's rarely so careless and carefree, so this sight – Sunggyu swaying his head to some beat only he can hear and dancing in his position as he says, "The cab's here!" is rare. It's the type that Myungsoo would record using his phone and send to Woohyun. _ur friend's acting crazy again,_ he'd probably tell Woohyun, and Woohyun would call him to say, 'So why are you with him and not me?'

He shakes his head, wills the thoughts away. Baekhyun looks up at him wide eyes and an even wider 'o' of the mouth. Sunggyu is Baekhyun's manager. There are things about Sunggyu's personal life that Baekhyun doesn't need to know. And there are things that Myungsoo shouldn't be thinking about at such a late hour.

"He can usually hold his alcohol better. Must be the fatigue at work. He hardly finished his second bottle of beer," Myungsoo says. He opens the door and gives the driver Sunggyu's address, then looks over his shoulder. "We can go take the next cab. At least we got the plate number for hyung's. If he goes missing then we know where to find him."

Baekhyun chuckles. "So we're going home together."

"We're taking the same cab." It's the same thing. "I'll pay for the fare up until my house. Just take care of the rest." Or take me with you. He swallows that thought down. "Can you... help me with hyung?"

Baekhyun blinks, then leans back. With a nod, he grips Sunggyu by the wrist and guides him inside the cab. Baekhyun presses down on the tuft of Sunggyu's hair with his free hand, making sure Sunggyu doesn't bump his head into the ceiling. "Yah, hyung, you text or call us when you get home, okay? For our peace of mind?"

" _Peaceeee,_ " Sunggyu says. Or singsongs. Everything he's saying right now sounds either sounds like a weird mishmash of words. His eyes are still sharp, though, focused. _Discerning._ Myungsoo meets his gaze head on and doesn't flinch even when Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him. Alcohol makes him more courageous, less fearful, quicker to forget the sinking feeling in his stomach, the feeling of Baekhyun's hand steady on his hip. Alcohol makes it easy for him to reach out and slip an arm around Baekhyun's waist when Baekhyun wobbles a little. He's here to help, not cause more trouble. He's just here as a friend. "Your cab's around the corner, I think? You two _are_ taking the same cab, right?"

Baekhyun looks over his shoulder, peering through his bangs. His lips are pressed together and _goddammit,_ he's got to take care of his lips else he'll bruise them, get cuts on them. And it's even harder to retouch that in post. Myungsoo's only worried that he'll have to do so much in Photoshop. Work, he reminds himself. This is an extension of work.

"We could be," Baekhyun says, then faces front again to turn his attention to Sunggyu. Then he sinks into the touch, his back pressed to Myungsoo's chest and his hand coming to rest on Myungsoo's wrist. "Yeah, we could–"

"We will," Myungsoo answers. To Sunggyu, he says, "Our ride's here. Get some rest, hyung. I'll call you in the morning."

"Afternoon," Sunggyu replies. Myungsoo laughs a little. Years ago, they probably would've showed up in class despite getting so shitfaced the night before. Fast forward five years and here they are, begging off from an early morning engagement. "You, kid, don't turn up for practice early. I'll tell the higher ups you had indigestion so you had to shit your heart out and won't be able to report until after lunch."

"Yeah, yeah, you've always got me covered. I get it, hyung." Baekhyun frowns at Sunggyu, but the way he's ruffling Sunggyu's hair seems so fond that the 'hyung' and the biting remark sound so out of place. "Go. We'll talk tomorrow. We have to get in our cab now."

_Our cab._ It's just a car, much like the one Sunggyu's riding at the moment. It isn't anything special. And Baekhyun's tapping his feet in quick succession, beats matching that of his summer track. It's only winter. There's a long way to go. _They've just started the game._

With one last wave of the hand, Sunggyu's locking the doors of his taxi and driving off, disappearing around the block. And Baekhyun's wrapping his fingers around Myungsoo's wrist, dragging him inside the cab so they can get a move on and be a few seconds closer to home.

There's no build up on the road, not at such a late hour. It's smack in the middle of the week and most of the kids commuting are probably at home, sipping seaweed soup, or in cram school still studying even at the height of the holiday season. Baekhyun's looking out the window, crammed to one side of the cab and a good twelve inches away from Myungsoo. It gives him enough space to breathe, but without Baekhyun's warmth pressed to his side the temperature inside the car feels so much colder. So he taps a beat on the cushion, looks in front of him and keeps his eyes on the road ahead. From a corner of his eye, he can see Baekhyun sneaking a glance at him every so often.

So are we going to talk about it, Myungsoo muses when the car slows down. They've been exchanging glances the whole time, brushing against each other and staring at each other's lips every chance they got. Baekhyun kept touching him – a hand on his hip, fingers wound around his wrist, his thumb drawing lazy circles on Myungsoo's skin. And now that they're alone, now that there's nothing but these few spaces between them keeping them apart, Baekhyun isn't speaking, isn't even reaching out to draw patterns on the back of his hand.

They approach a corner, and when the car swerves Baekhyun loses his grip on the couch and slides to the other side of the cab. His elbows digs into Myungsoo's side and his head finds a nice fit on Myungsoo's shoulders when he tilts it to the side. Baekhyun steadies himself by gripping Myungsoo's thigh, tight and unforgiving. His hand is shaking. His fingers are cold. His chest is heaving in tandem with his heavy breathing. Myungsoo reaches out, then, rests one hand atop Baekhyun's in an attempt to lend him some warmth. He keeps the touch light, though, in case Baekhyun wants to pull away. They're headed home, traveling from Gangnam to Ilsandong. And as with all trips, this one has to come to an end as well.

"Hi," Baekhyun says in a small, small voice. It almost sounds as if he's croaking. Myungsoo chuckles. Baekhyun shifts, then, looking up, his head still rested on Myungsoo's shoulder. He pokes Myungsoo's cheek twice. "I said, _hi._ "

Myungsoo turns to look at him, laughter still playing on his lips. Baekhyun's eyes sparkle even more in the dark. If Myungsoo squints hard enough, maybe he'll see Baekhyun smiling, but then it's almost midnight. They've been shooting for hours and they're tired. They've been exposed to studio lights for far too long and Myungsoo isn't used to studying things in the dark anymore. So he leans closer, just close enough for him to feel the heat of Baekhyun's skin pressed to his cheek. His body is beginning to memorize this sensation; his mind is having trouble catching up. "Hello."

"Yeah, hi," Baekhyun says again. He splays his fingers out on Myungsoo's thigh, warm palm pressing down harder. Then he hooks his fingers on Myungsoo's own and balls his hand into a fist, dragging Myungsoo's hand along with him. He just keeps their fingers intertwined like that, not uttering a word, but his pulse is tapping messages on Myungsoo's skin like a code – one tap for 'hi', two taps for 'hello'. A tap longer than the usual for 'what are we doing?', then three beats in succession for 'what's happening?'.

"I don't know," Myungsoo voices out, breathing out in a long and loud exhale. Baekhyun hums, chuckles, doesn't question him and doesn't say anything for the rest of the trip. Only when the cab pulls over at Myungsoo's building does Baekhyun let go and look up, does he part his lips again and make an unintelligible gurgle at the back of his throat.

"Say it," Myungsoo declares. He keeps the door open, rests one hand on the body of the car and transfers all of his weight to it. He can hear the driver mumbling something, but he doesn't care. It's Baekhyun's voice that he needs to hear, not the driver's. It's Baekhyun who owes him an explanation, something more than a 'hi' or a 'hello' that could mean anything, ranging from 'hi, go to hell,' or 'hello, we're almost late for our ride to heaven'. "Go on, say whatever you have to say."

"I'll... text you when I get home," Baekhyun begins. He grips the handle on his side of the cab and gives the door a soft tug. The vibration stuns Myungsoo, makes him jerk back and release his hold on the door. "Go. Rest well."

He opens his mouth to say more, but soon the car's speeding away, slowly getting swallowed by the night and the darkness. They won't be turning right until two blocks later, so Myungsoo tries chasing after Baekhyun with a statement, a question without the lilts in his voice fitting of something he's supposed to be unsure of. "So we're not talking about it–" he calls out, but his voice comes out so faint, almost as if he's breathing. That won't reach the car driving off, turning around the block. The sound won't reach Baekhyun no matter how hard he tries.

Not this shit again, a voice of the back of his mind says. So he tells it off, says to himself, "Shut up," and walks up the stairs of his building. Maybe with tomorrow's promise of sunshine, he'll be able to see things better. Maybe tomorrow, he'll wake up not remembering a thing.

He doesn't get drunk, though. There's no reason for him to forget a single detail.

He kicks the ground before keying in the building's code. With a deep breath, he shuts the door behind him, hoping to leave behind memories of this night out in the streets to freeze in the cold.


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn't. It's been six days and he's already finished a photography project and a magazine layout somewhere in between and he still gets the feeling that he's being watched even if he's working alone in the room late at night. He's already gone to the convenience store nearby to restock his fridge and cupboards but he still hasn't forgotten. There's still the ghost of Baekhyun's smile whenever he squints and shields his eyes from the studio lights. There's still the shadow of Baekhyun's hands on his skin when he looks at himself in the mirror in the morning, while preparing for his freelance work. And he can still feel the sting of Baekhyun's touch in the dead of the night, just before he goes to sleep. It keeps him awake until obscene hours in the morning, when all he can think of is waking up at five in the morning to a call from a familiar number.

And sometimes he gets this insane urge to text Baekhyun, ask about practice or if he's found another way to reinvent a song. But the reality is that there's no reason to text Baekhyun. They don't have a shoot tomorrow and they'd already picked out the pictures they'll be using for the final material on the day of the shoot itself. The person he has to get in touch with and send the photos to is Sunggyu, not Baekhyun. Phase one of the Byun Baekhyun project is over and it isn't until four weeks after that they'll meet again for the winter shoot. Only then will he have a reason to talk to Baekhyun, seek him out, find a way to make him wear that bright smile of his that he keeps hiding behind his hand.

It's for your own good, he tells himself, _convinces_ himself. He can't keep falling for the same trap. He's twenty-eight; he should know better. He's old enough to know when he's signing himself up for trouble, and Byun Baekhyun is nothing but trouble in every shape and form.

He takes a deep breath. On his message thread with Sunggyu, he types, _sending u the files, hyung. let me know if anything needs to be fixed._ He checks the email one last time, though, to make sure he pasted the correct link in the body of the email and to double-check the message for any errors. He made the mistake of emailing Howon a link to an analysis of a particular Pokemon credited under his name instead of a link to his stock photo resource of choice a couple of years ago. Howon wouldn't stop calling him by his username – ' _level20pokemongod,_ really? Why can't you fawn over another Pokemon? Why does it have to be Magikarp?' – for days, weeks. Months, even. Until now, Howon teases him about it and even uses that knowledge to his advantage when he has a favor to ask from Myungsoo. He calls it blackmail; Howon calls it playing his cards well.

With a deep breath and one final look at the email, he clicks the 'send' button. He leans back in his seat and throws his head back against the wall. A shiver crawls down his spine, numbing him a little and making him seethe. It's already a little past five in the afternoon and he's been working since his ass found a nice fit in his chair. That was at ten in the evening the night before. Suddenly it's normal again, staying up late or even the whole night to complete projects. At least he's not dealing with stupid clients with outrageous expectations this time.

Outlook gives off a whopping sound, telling him that the message has been successfully sent. He reaches for his phone and types, _it's password protected, hyung, don't worry. no one will be able to check the files even if it's in the cloud._

 _tnx! got your email in my inbox. will check after the mtg brb,_ Sunggyu texts right back. It doesn't feel as if he's in a meeting, not with his quick replies, but then Sunggyu's always been good at multi-tasking. Myungsoo shrugs, moving closer to his laptop to pull up an iTunes playlist to relax his mind, when another message comes in. _baekhyun's asking for a hi-res of the one where he's leaning against the wall btw. says he needs it for his laptop's wallpaper. don't ask me why. could you send him a copy? '2880x1800px if it's ok tnx hyung' -- > that's what he said. who even has a screen that big?_

 _layout artists, hyung, sometimes even photographers like me,_ Myungsoo types in response, laughing a little. Is this one of your tricks again, Myungsoo wants to ask Baekhyun, but that's not part of the contract. So in Baekhyun's window, he types, _may i have your email address, please?_

He shivers a little. _too formal too formal!!,_ Baekhyun texts back, and he can't help but echo the thought. The last time he'd typed that sentence in a text was when he was still with Red Balloon, slaving his ass over hair care brands and Twister Fries. A few seconds after, another message comes in, from Baekhyun yet again. _beullingbaek@yahoo.co.kr hi-res jpeg format pls :D i use the same id for my line so if u want to add me then go ahead :D_

So do _you_ want to talk about it, Myungsoo almost types. He doesn't. Instead, he lays his phone face down on the table and doesn't flip it over until minutes after, until he's done cropping the image to a 2880 x 1800-pixel artwork. He attaches it to his mail, types Baekhyun's address in the 'to' field. That email address will be valuable information someday, he muses, when Baekhyun finally debuts and makes it big in the entertainment industry. Maybe he should print the email trail and have Baekhyun sign it with a marker, complete with dedication. Then he can have that framed and sell it in big auctions. He'll make buckets of money from that. Then Baekhyun will probably kick him in the balls and say, in a tone that sounds more amused than mad, 'I feel so used!'

His cursor hovers the 'send' button. The body of the email looks sad, too empty without anything but his signature at the footer. So he types a quick _:D_ in the body, then uses _Resized picture_ as his subject header before clicking the button.

 _sent,_ he texts Baekhyun. He catches sight of the username up there, in Baekhyun's text bubble, glaring at him as if it wants to get noticed. He dismisses it, locking his phone as soon as the message goes through, then taps on the black screen with a nail. It shouldn't mean anything, adding Baekhyun on a mobile messenger that's almost like your usual text application, but his fingers are stiff and his phone suddenly feels too heavy in his hands. It's just a username, Myungsoo. Get over it, he tells himself, but his body pulls off one last act of betrayal, making his stomach lurch and his toes curl.

_kekeke thanks! :D whats ur handle on line? it's easier to text there. OR MORE FUN yeah. been asking hyung 4 it but he wont tell. says ur not the type to give it away so easily so i shld just ask u personally and thats what im doing now :D_

"I didn't need to hear all that," Myungsoo whispers. He folds his arms on his desk and lets his face fall forward, forehead thunking against the bones of his arms. He's been working on the photos the whole day, cleaning the tiny strands of hair popping from Baekhyun's gelled up hair and liquifying his cheeks, pulling them up even more so that his smile looks more genuine, less idol-looking and more natural. Only then was he able to catch the uneven dip of Baekhyun's mouth, the tiny cracks on Baekhyun's bottom lip that even lip balm and make up couldn't hide. And then he found himself staring for a good five, seven minutes, just wondering how it would feel to trace the shape of Baekhyun's mouth with his thumb.

He takes a deep breath. He's running on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. He's emptied out tray of chips twice – those were his only meals of the day. He's tired. When he moved on from that picture to color-correct Baekhyun's other photo, he made a decision to not succumb to the allure of his thoughts. He resolved to himself to not fall prey to the traitorous sting of Baekhyun's hands on his skin. Don't give in, a voice at the back of his mind says, but all the other voices are saying give up, give it a shot, _it's just a username, Myungsoo, come on–_

His phone beeps again, shrill and persistent. "Much like the texter," Myungsoo mumbles, then snorts when he sees Baekhyun's message. _r u kmmyungsooo @ line or is that someone else? bcoz the display picture is just plain white and i don't think ppl are supposed 2 luk like a blank canvas u know what im saying?_

He stares at the screen a little longer before taking a deep breath. _yea that's me,_ he types. His thumb hovers the comma button, contemplating saying more. He doesn't. Instead, he just adds a smiley at the end of the message and sends it even before he can think of erasing the whole thing and overthinking the damned text.

 _heh great, gonna add u. can't just go adding random people. uknow, celeb stuff kekeke,_ Baekhyun texts in reply. Then a Line notification comes in, saying that he's been added to a certain 'beulling beulling baekhyun's friends list via username. He clicks it and returns the favor, clicking the add button without a second thought.

Then he sees it, the photo Baekhyun is using, the same photo that Myungsoo sent him just minutes and a few quick breaths ago. Another message comes, this time on Line. _change ur pic to something that has ur face!! cmon ur cute dont be afraid to plaster ur picture in a mobile messenger. promise i wont keep a copy on my phone ;)_

Trouble, a voice at the back of his mind says. Byun Baekhyun is trouble. Still, Myungsoo finds himself changing his display picture to the most recent photo of himself that he has – a photo Sunggyu took back when they were in college, on their first and only hike to Seoraksan without Woohyun.

ミ☆

There are a couple of pros and cons to adding Baekhyun on Line. On the list of pros, in no particular order: Baekhyun and Sunggyu are a package deal, which means less text credits spent on texting Sunggyu and Myungsoo being able to maximize his unlimited data package because he messages and calls Sunggyu via Line now. Howon replies to Line messages quicker, for some weird reason, which means faster communication when they're talking about the freelance project they're collaborating on. Just a week ago, Howon got him in touch with one of their clients from their Red Balloon days and got him a new project. It's a total rebranding of a big brand this time, and he has 'free reign' on how the visuals will be executed. That roughly translates to him trying to make the client's weird and outrageous ideas work and trying to make ends meet, but its better than nothing and just staring at an empty canvas on Photoshop. He's getting paid a pretty good sum for it. It will look good on his portfolio and will give his credentials a boost. And Jang Dongwoo isn't such an asshole of a boss. The best part? He replies to Myungsoo's Line messages that are mostly follow ups on feedback on the design and sends Myungsoo free sticker packs. All is good.

On the list of cons, however: Line having a desktop application means he can't always choke up late replies to 'having poor typing skills on my phone'. Sunggyu uses their Line chat as a Snapchat alternative, sending him pictures of all the food he's been eating and the sweets Myungsoo wants to eat but can't because his blood sugar levels are high. Baekhyun messages him at obscene hours in the morning about anything that comes to mind. Once, Baekhyun started talking to him about looking for the most interesting cactus in all of Korea at nine in the morning and somehow ended up talking about seeing fireworks in another country with his family at one in the morning the following day.

 _fuck that's the 5th time i had to retype stuff ugh im so sleepy,_ Baekhyun says, then sends a sticker of a panda drooling. He doesn't stop, though, sends Myungsoo a message that says, _hmm maybe sydney's a good idea... the new year hits there earlier than the rest of the world right?? sounds pretty amazing keke_

 _it does. go to bed, baekhyun,_ Myungsoo texts him. Outside, the wind blows, rapping against his windows. The weather forecast a few hours ago said that tomorrow – _today,_ goddammit, since it's already half past one in the morning – is the coldest day of the month. His body clock's so screwed up and it's not even because of work. That's the only thing that's wrong, though – everything else about him is functioning well. He doesn't feel as if his nose is about to crack because of the cold, doesn't feel as if his own fingers are made of ice. He doesn't even have his blankets wrapped himself. They're pooled at his feet. He's hugging a giant Pikachu stuffed toy to his chest. He's leaning against his Snorlax pillow and typing away in the tiny message window in his phone, fingers moving faster than back when he was still convinced that text messaging was a chore. It doesn't feel so cold, even if the temperature just beyond his window is at minus two and he can see nothing but an expanse of white outside. Baekhyun's sunny texts at this late hour makes the room much warmer.

Or maybe it's because the building admin finally got his heating system fixed earlier. That could also be a reason. Laughing a little, he reaches for his blankets and pulls them up all the way to his shoulders.

 _not yet sleepy. im talking 2 u,_ Baekhyun replies. Myungsoo rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He sends him a sticker of a bunny squinting her eyes. Baekhyun sends him a sticker of the white blob character winking and doing a peace sign at the same time. Myungsoo only laughs and tells Baekhyun again to go to bed, get some rest, it will be a long day tomorrow. Make sure to wear socks because old people get cold easily, even if Baekhyun makes it so easy to feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

 _ur exceptionally cute when ur concerned,_ Baekhyun texts. He sends a large heart sticker, then says, _u get some sleep 2 ok? stop working. u still have work 2moro and ur working for me. OH SHIT WAIT I MEAN LATER HRS FROM NOW_

Glad to know you're just as fucked up as I am, Myungsoo wants to say, but lethargy has gotten the better of him and he's weak – too weak to actually type that long sentence in Baekhyun's Line chat, too much of a coward to be completely honest with himself and other people around him. He's only known Baekhyun for, what, two, three months? He hadn't given in to Woohyun's sweet words until they'd been friends for half a year. It's too early. It can't be this easy.

Three more months, a voice at the back of his mind says. He shuns that away, shushes his own voice. On the message window, he types, _lol yeah get some sleep, kid. you're not making sense anymore. we'll talk later._

 _not a kid,_ is Baekhyun's immediate reply. A heartbeat, then, _looking forward to seeing you :) good night kim myungsoo. sweet dreams :)_

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and throws his covers overhead, as if it would do anything to wipe the silly look on his face, the violent upward tug on the corners of his mouth, the loud thumping in his chest. There's still an unanswered message flashing on his phone, a person on the other end of the line waiting for his reply. But then Baekhyun might have already fallen asleep and succumbed to the allure of sleep. He might have shut his phone as soon as he sent that message. Heck, he might have even typed that message half-asleep. So Myungsoo stares at the message a little longer, reads it again and again until he can process everything in his very hazy mind: Baekhyun had used his fully name. He was using smileys instead of stickers. And he'd spelled out his words, didn't use any contractions or shortcuts that would make typing easier and much faster.

It's still the same old Baekhyun, though, and if he tries hard enough he'll be able to hear Baekhyun saying the exact message in his ears. Baekhyun would hum and sing thoe words like they were his own song. He'd muffle his laughter with the press of his hand to his mouth. Then his cheeks would burn the brightest, most interesting shade of red. And Myungsoo would just sit back to marvel at the whole thing, resisting the urge to snap a photo of that moment right then and there because Baekhyun _hates_ it when a camera is being shoved into his face instead of it being the other way around.

 _you too. sweet dreams,_ he replies after a while. it takes him a full minute to even out his breathing and slip his phone under his pillow. It takes him another to slip into a peaceful state of slumber. And it takes him three, four hours to wake up feeling refreshed, recharged, ready to tackle the new day unfolding in front of him.

When he checks his phone, a sticker of the white blob with sparkly eyes and flushed cheeks greets him. It _does_ look like Baekhyun, looks a lot like him when he's too excited and eager to get things done. It's also the same look that surfaces on his features when the light hits him _just so,_ setting him aglow. So Myungsoo repays Baekhyun in kind, sends him a sticker of the blond guy flashing two thumbs up and cheering him on.

He doesn't send Baekhyun the hugging sticker where his thumb hovers. Instead, he locks his phone and gets up, promising to himself, _this will be a good day._

ミ☆

Myungsoo makes a stopover at Hongdae to meet up with Dongwoo and get some paperwork done. "Always a pleasure to do business with you," he tells Dongwoo once the latter hands him a sealed envelope in exchange for the DVD he'd copied the files to on the spot. It's the fastest he's been able to receive payment for a project and the fastest he's gotten approval for his designs, too. Dongwoo knows what he wants and has the equity of the brand he's handling memorized like the back of his hand. And he knows exactly how he wants to communicate that in visuals, unlike other clients who'd say that they'll 'know what they want when they see it.'

"Hoya was surprised when I told him I was meeting up with you today," Dongwoo mentions. He takes a sip of his coffee that looks 70% chocolate than anything else and takes a deep breath. His choice of coffee doesn't seem like something a country media manager would drink, but then Dongwoo _is_ different from most people. "I said you were running the final designs by me one last time then I'll already hand you the check. Then he laughed and said that you'd be thrilled because – I quote – 'we've never had a client like you'. So I was just, 'dude, you two have been dealing with a bunch of assholes. Not all clients are bad.' Then he said, 'well, they _are_ assholes. How d'you feel about Soo and I working on your other brands?'"

Dongwoo finishes with a big smile, one that reaches the corners of his eyes and makes them crinkle. _He's_ the one who looks thrilled, like he'll burst into a fit of giggles no matter what Myungsoo says. And he looks as if he's _expecting_ something. He's drumming his fingers on the wooden table to a familiar melody and he's humming under his breath, his head swaying from side to side. Slowly, he cocks an eyebrow, and that's when Myungsoo leans back.

What do you want me to ask, he wants to say. Dongwoo's the one handling the company, not the other way around. He's the one calling the shots and Myungsoo's just a freelancer whose sanity and salary depend on how good his clients are. Myungsoo doesn't have a say in this, probably shouldn't have a say in the matter, but with the way Dongwoo is looking at him and pushing the plate of untouched croissant in his direction it looks as if he's handing the trigger for the shutter release to Myungsoo and telling him, 'Anytime you're ready, director. Just click the button if you feel that the time is right–'

"Will you be needing help on rebranding the other personal care brands in your portfolio?" Myungsoo asks after a while. The smile on Dongwoo's lips grows, pries his lips open until he's wearing the same big smile that he'd punctuated his sentence with earlier.

He takes a snap of that, files it to the back of his mind for future reference. Maybe he'll find a use for it sometime, when he needs to guide people on how to smile with their entire body. He takes a deep breath. "I mean, we'll be glad to work with you again, if you ever need help on branding and _rebranding,_ " he adds. "It will be an honor."

"Okay, then. Let me rephrase my question," Dongwoo says. He shifts in his seat and fixes his tie, like he's writing a contract with the tilt of his chin and the way he pulls his shoulders back, sitting straight. "We're working on a mass rebranding for the entire portfolio. All our products, from the diapers to the napkins and even the detergents. It's for our 75th anniversary." He takes another sip of his drink. Some of the foam catches on his top lip and– _Oh,_ he's already licking it off. He's not offering Myungsoo a contract; he's extending his hand in Myungsoo's direction and asking for help. "Will you please do us the honor of getting our shit sorted and working on the rebranding with us?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. It almost sounds like a proposal, like Dongwoo's trying to win his heart or loyalty or something of that sort. Or maybe this is life's way of telling him that see, Myungsoo, not all employers are as bad as your bosses in your old job. Have a bit more faith in humanity. Don't think ill of them right away because not everyone will take advantage of you. Still, it takes a while to digest – Dongwoo's giving him a choice, offering him something that only someone stupid would refuse. He can easily ask Dongwoo for time to process things, but the last time he did it, he made the mistake of reading too much into every single detail and overthinking everything.

And the last time he followed his gut feel and said 'yes' was when he took Sunggyu's offer. It was so spontaneous – Sunggyu was to alight the van and Myungsoo caught the sight of Baekhyun's sleeping figure out of the corner of his eye. A part of him wanted to take a picture of Baekhyun like that, all his defenses down, too vulnerable to those who'd take time to poke fun at him. And the other part of him just wanted to study his face forever, marvel at it, watch the slightest movement of Baekhyun's muscles until he can see Baekhyun at the back of his eyelids – moving, breathing, living in him.

He swallows hard. You'll regret this, logic tells him.

Shut up, he tells logic, and looks up at Dongwoo. The wicked smile on Dongwoo's lips has eased into something more relaxed, more natural. More... understanding, much like the face Sunggyu wears when he knows Myungsoo's bogged down by too many things for him to fathom and all he needs is someone to _understand._

"It would be my pleasure," he says, voice too bright and crisp in his ears. It sounds like a different person, someone from the past. Twenty-three-year-old Kim Myungsoo accepting a contract from Red Balloon and signing it with his blood. He's not the same kid he once was, though. He's twenty-eight now, more experienced, _wiser._ He shouldn't be making the same old mistakes. So he repeats, this time in his own voice, the one he's more familiar with, "I'd be glad to work on your rebranding project but–"

Dongwoo cocks an eyebrow at him. "But?"

"But I've signed a contract with SM as Bae–" As Baekhyun's art director, he almost says. Or Baekhyun's acquaintance whom he seeks feedback from. It doesn't sound professional or as impressive as it truly is. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to grimace at himself. "I've signed a contract with them as an art director. For photography. I'm in charge of their new talent's debut promotions and the contact lasts until he goes up on stage to perform his song." The summer track, but Baekhyun's still lobbying for a back-to-back performance with the spring track. Sunggyu's behind him a hundred percent. "So that's August. Until then, I won't be able to do work with another company full-time. And I... don't want to compromise the output I'll be giving you because my attention will be split. No client, no company deserves that. And no designer should do that, as well."

Dongwoo laughs a little. "You're passionate about your craft. You're so in love with it," he says, voice almost dropping to a whisper. The corners of his lips soften even more, and the arch of his eyebrows relaxes. "I respect and admire you for that. And, well, it also makes me a bit sad since we were hoping to start the rebranding project in April, but I think we can work with Hoya on that first. He... already gave me his yes, but he said to ask you just in case."

That asshole, Myungsoo groans to himself. He'll kick Howon in the balls the next time he sees him. Then give him a hug because this is a huge project, something that can skyrocket their careers to success.

"Did he, really?"

Dongwoo hums. "He did," he answers, then punctuates it with soft laughter. The tight knot in Myungsoo's chest loosens, eases into something less grappling. It's one of those things he feels when Howon's just looking at him instead of urging him to speak up and say whatever's on his mind. It's comfortable. It's _comforting._ "He told me not to tell you, too, but I think you had the right to know. Besides, he's been recommending you to me for months. When you finally said yes, he was more excited for your project than his own. He's been working on a few things for us for a while already, actually. Something to keep him–"

"Sane," Myungsoo finishes. Howon loves doing tiny passion projects. They keep him up until obscene hours in the morning, but they never feel like work. Myungsoo gets that, the twisted logic behind working so hard on something that makes you happy and not minding losing sleep to get things done. He's been experiencing the same since he quit Red Balloon and started taking one freelance project after another.

And then there's the SM Project. There Byun Baekhyun is with his shy smile and the laughter he pockets in the tiny cup of his hands. There he is with his glimmering eyes and his body that says both everything and nothing about what he's thinking of. He's the perfect idol package – he can sing, he's an okay dancer but he tries hard enough to look like a good one, he has mystery written all over his features and that's the hook. That's what will keep people coming back for more, purchasing one B Y ✩ U N CD after another. And there's trouble written on the curve of his body, the slope of his neck, the dip of his back. It's in the gentle swell of his bottom lip and the way he worries it too much, leaving it a bright and interesting shade of red.

"That's the exact word that he used," Dongwoo tells him. "He looks better now, after he quit his old job." He chuckles. "He looks alive."

Myungsoo nods. It's funny how that one thing that he'd been earning a living out of was the same thing that was eating him up alive and spitting him out whole, all chewed up, just barely breathing. And what's even more hilarious is that now that he has no fixed source of income, he feels more stable than ever, so self-assured and not beaten to a pulp by deadlines. His ego took a beating there, when he was still in production; his belief in himself, even more. Back there in the studio, they were made to believe that there was no higher being than the clients, that whatever those assholes of clients wanted, the had to deliver at all costs even at the expense of their sanity. Hence the passion projects to keep them from wrecking havoc in the workplace, to keep them calm and balanced and not make them rush into heated battles without anything but their fists – their hands that they use to create things – to defend themselves.

"And I heard you're doing much better now, too," Dongwoo adds. "Glad to know I – I mean the company – could help somehow."

"Yeah," Myungsoo says in acknowledgement. He can feel it, the rush of excitement everytime he tackles a new project. The knowledge that he can experiment with things and not always go with tried-and-tested methods tickles his fancy. And then there's the silly kid waiting for him in Gangnam because, ' _u cudnt make it to brunch so lunch is cool ryt? there's a nice place 2 blocks away. wear a lot of layers 2day. fucking cold. o yeah can i run an idea by u? need some honest input keke._ As simple as that. Sometimes it's these small things that make the most significant difference. It's the smallest, most unassuming people who leave the greatest impact in one's life.

"Your... phone's been buzzing for a while now," Dongwoo mentions after paying for their coffee. He stands up, straightening out his shirt, then asks, "Girlfriend?"

Myungsoo laughs, too sudden and too loud for his liking. So he presses the back of his hand to his lips, trying to push the sound down his throat, trying to swallow down the tiny bubbles of laughter on his lips. It takes him a while to realize what he's doing, only when he sees his reflection on the glass when they exit the coffee shop. He drops his hand to his side, then, balls it in a tight fist and says to Dongwoo, "No, not at all."

Later, on the bus to Gangnam, he pulls out his phone and pulls up his chat with Baekhyun. He thinks of telling him about that incident earlier, the whole copying thing, but decides against it. Friends mimic each other's habits. Friends rub off on each other. There's nothing special about it. If Myungsoo's just as infectious as Baekhyun is then he's _sorry;_ he doesn't mean it. But he knows very well Baekhyun will just laugh at it and brush it off like one of those lame jokes Sunggyu delivers on a daily basis.

 _on my way,_ he types in the chat, then sends his message. He locks his phone and slips it back in his pocket. It won't make a difference if he tells Baekhyun about it. It won't make a difference to either of them. Baekhyun's just another guy.

ミ☆

Brunch is at a specialty juk restaurant close to the SM building. It's a small, quaint place, the type that you'd probably overlook if you weren't looking for it. The interiors look great, though – high ceilings, off-white walls, the floor being separated into different levels as if they're layers making up an entire three-tier cake. For a place that looks so small from the outside, the space has been used so effectively. It can house a good twenty, thirty people at a time. It's sort of a marriage of the old and the new Seoul. A typical restaurant you'd see in Gangnam where everyone's craving a bit of the good ol' Seoul, clinging onto that last sliver of history in the midst of all the innovations around them.

They take the table farthest from the entrance and Baekhyun sits opposite him with his back turned to the window. He looks exactly like a celebrity trying to hide from people with his outfit – dark jeans and a white v-neck shirt, and then a blue and orange plaid polo on top. A light cardigan, and then a thick coat that reaches the back of his knees. It has a hood, too, that he wears over his baseball cap. The finishing touch – a mask worn across his lips, saving the world from having to hear him cough his lungs out. If he had sunglasses on then the look would be complete, but then Baekhyun's eyesight is shit in the dark. So instead, he just squints when the sunlight hits him too hard.

The dark circles under his eyes have worsened. He only has a few more months left until debut to be perfect, a little less of the 'dopey trainee' he used to market himself as and more of the idol SM wants him to be. Myungsoo takes a deep breath, sits on his hands, and tries not to lean in. This is the first time they're seeing each other again in weeks; he can't just reach out and expect Baekhyun to lean into the touch and not flinch.

"Fuck the sun, really," Baekhyun groans, then holds his right hand up as he goes through the items in the menu. His nails are long. They make his already slender fingers look even slimmer. Baekhyun babbles about something that sounds a lot like staying up late for practice last night and having to report to work early. The usual idol troubles, except Baekhyun's rough voice makes it sound ten times worse. It makes Myungsoo's insides turn. It makes him want to trap Baekhyun's hands beneath his and just make him stop, _breathe._ Remind him that he still has time to be human and to be Baekhyun, not the idol whose posters will soon be plastered on every flat surface.

He doesn't. He does lift his hands, though, resting them on his lap for a minute before bringing them to the surface of the table. He ends up bumping the back of his hands into the underside of the table, startling Baekhyun out of his routine-looking review of the menu. He seethes, yowls. Bites the inside of his cheek. If they're really hiding from the curious gazes of Baekhyun's potential fans then Myungsoo's being a shitty accomplice.

"Careful," Baekhyun mumbles. "You don't want to draw too much attention to us." He looks up, pausing when their eyes meet, then cocks an eyebrow at Myungsoo ask if asking, 'Are you alright? Does it hurt anywhere?' Baekhyun just keeps staring, though, doesn't verbalize whatever he means by that searching gaze, the tilt of the head, his eyes settling on the nasty red glow on the back of Myungsoo's hands. Then he removes the mask, dropping it just near his glass of water. His nose is too red, possibly from the cold. There are faint dots of red on his skin. Myungsoo almost laughs to himself. It's nice to know that some things don't change. Also, unsettling. "Though that's hard because you're good-looking. Why aren't you an idol?"

"Because I'm your photographer," Myungsoo says, scoffing, as if it's the most obvious answer. Baekhyun rolls his eyes in response, but fixes his gaze on Myungsoo again, leaning closer with each passing second until Myungsoo doesn't have to squint to make out the pimples on Baekhyun's cheeks anymore. For a moment, he's concerned that Baekhyun could be contagious, but all that registers at the back of Myungsoo's mind right now is that they're outside SM. That Baekhyun is debuting in seven months. _He has fans._ There might be people around them who'd misinterpret this as– As what?

Clearing his throat, Myungsoo asks, "You take a walk around Gangnam without make up? Is that okay with SM?" He leans back, then, shifting in his seat. He balls his hands into fists. "I'd put on some powder, if I were you. Hyung might get mad if your fans manage to snap a picture of you in–"

"In what? In my plain old face?" Baekhyun snorts, scoffs, _coughs._ Myungsoo leans in a bit, but Baekhyun raises a hand in front of him as if saying, 'I'm good. I'll live. I'm just coughing, not wailing on the floor.' "It'll be good publicity. I can imagine it now: Byun Baekhyun goes out without make up. 'He's the most candid idol ever. He's just like everyone. He... doesn't try so hard to be perfect and amazing because he already is! I like how down-to-earth he is–'"

"See, that's the very thing that contradicts your whole argument."

"Hey, at least let me finish! As I was saying–" Baekhyun uses that high pitch again, but this time it makes him sound more like he's whining than imitating an entertainment broadcaster's voice. It's the same tone he uses when he lies flat on the floor of the practice room and declares that he's tired. 'Hyung, buy me– No, buy _us_ dinner! Come on, hyung, you've seen the improvement and Myungsoo helped a lot so please–'

"Please just rest your throat," Myungsoo interrupts. He hands Baekhyun a glass of warm water, then says, "You wouldn't want to put all those hours of practice to waste, would you?"

Baekhyun frowns. He just out his bottom lip, then, and takes a sip of the warm water. He takes a bit too much at the first sip, scalding his tongue, but he neither seethes nor groans. He isn't making any sound. Instead, he just fans his burnt, hypersensitive tongue with his hand and downs a quick gulp of iced water even before Myungsoo could keep him from doing so.

"Byun Baekhyun–"

"That's my name," Baekhyun answers, grinning. There it is again, the unrehearsed big smile, so spontaneous that Myungsoo doesn't even see it coming. Hundreds of photographs later and he's sure knows almost every quirk of Baekhyun's mouth now. Still, nothing could have prepared him for this: the way Baekhyun's lips fall open and tug up at the corners until it reaches his eyes, his ears. Until it reaches deep inside him and pulls out every ounce of light that he's containing within him. Nothing could have prepared him for Baekhyun sharing this smile on the first day that they're seeing each other after weeks of just texting and sending each other stickers via Line. Nothing, save for a real warning from the culprit, himself, could have prepared him for the lurching sensation in his stomach and the way Baekhyun finds it so easy to just drop a bomb inside him, set it off without preamble. And nothing could have prepared him for Baekhyun tapping his ankle with the tip of his shoe, for Baekhyun linking their ankles under the table and the heat of Baekhyun's body seeping through the thick material of Myungsoo's pants.

It's your name. It's the name of something indescribable deep inside me. Myungsoo pushes that thought to the back of his mind and says, "I know. I know that very well."

"You better," Baekhyun says, winking. He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip. It's not chapped anymore, but it is a bit more red than the usual. Maybe Baekhyun's been biting down on it more these days, in an effort to contain his nervousness. Or maybe nobody has been telling Baekhyun to stop abusing his pretty lips because he can put them into good use in other ways. "Because pretty soon I'll evolve from SM's tiny Baekhyun to the best thing to hit South Korea since banana milk in tetra bricks."

Myungsoo doesn't see that coming, either, the sizzle of heat that rolls down his abdomen. It's just hunger. The last meal he had was back at home and the last thing he ate was half of the croissant Dongwoo didn't feel like eating anymore. He's just hungry. He needs to eat. They need to place their orders so they can have sumptuous brunch now. It has nothing to do with the way Baekhyun's drawing a line from the link of their ankles and then up to the side of Myungsoo's knee. It has nothing to do with the knowledge that Baekhyun's gross for drawing weird lines with his socked foot on the surface of Myungsoo's pants. And it does not have anything to do with the way Baekhyun shifts in his seat to hike his foot further up.

 _Goddammit–_ Myungsoo raises one hand, signaling for the server to come closer. "I'm having seafood juk and he's having nothing but water. Doctor's orders," he says through gritted teeth. Baekhyun only cackles in reply but doesn't pull away. Only when their food arrives – two orders of seafood juk, some mulmandu and a ton of other side dishes – does Baekhyun let him breathe, pulling away from the lock of their ankles and blowing puffs of air into his porridge.

He risks a glance at Baekhyun and finds a nice, pink flush on Baekhyun's cheeks as he peeks at Myungsoo through his bangs. He files this look at the back of his mind, and this one, as well – Baekhyun's eyes widening _just a little_ , his lips parting open into a small 'o', his tiny, tiny mouth curling up at the corners before he presses the back of his hand to them to deprive Myungsoo yet again of the sight of his smile.

Too late, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. It sounds a lot like him. He already has a thousand picture of Baekhyun's grin at the back of his mind, engraved on the back of his eyelids. All the has to do is to close his eyes and Baekhyun – even this image of Baekhyun in his mind – ever the people-pleaser, will do the rest.

ミ☆

The winter shoot sees Baekhyun in a ridiculous bundle of clothes. "This is apt for someone going on a hike, not for someone strolling down the streets or walking along the Han," Myungsoo mumbles when Baekhyun emerges from the dressing room. Sunggyu nods, slow and solemn, his eyebrows furrowed in a tight knot and his mouth caught between a polite smile and, well, one of his more neutral smiles. Sunggyu seems to not be so skilled in frowning; he still needs to practice looking like an asshole. Training starts right now.

So when Sunggyu stands from his seat to raise his concern, Myungsoo only sits back and watches the scene unfold in front of him. Sunggyu asks, "Aren't you overdoing the winter concept? He looks like a coat rack now, not someone who's too cold and won't survive five seconds outside the building without the proper winter gear." Sunggyu rolls his eyes. "We want to see a winter concept, not a winter closet. Come on, ladies, you can do better."

"They could, but they're tired," Baekhyun whispers. These girls were the same people who did the styling for Luna's shoot this morning. It's only normal for them to be worn out from having to work hard at such an early hour. He looks up at them, eyes softening and bottom lip jutting out in a soft pout. Myungsoo wants to punch that look off his face and maybe keep it to himself, for himself. He's yet to complete his catalogue of Baekhyun's expressions; there are some that he's thrown out of the window, those that are too fatal to study for extended periods of time.

One of the stylists groans. Baekhyun smiles up at her with the tight press of his lips and his eyes thinning into slits. She makes him get rid of the furry coat and tosses a nice maroon scarf in his direction, instead. It goes well with the khaki coat that Baekhyun picks from the wardrobe the stylists have prepared for him. Too well, in fact, that Myungsoo finds himself feeling around for his phone, trying to get snap a picture of this look – Baekhyun looking to the side, the lighting set up behind him as his background. The hard angles of his jaw adding nice lines of detail to his features. His hair turning from dark brown to something lighter, a bit golden. It looks like a sick mix of silver and gold and it makes Baekhyun look like a walking ball of sunshine.

"I'll go check the lighting set up," Myungsoo tells Sunggyu, then excuses himself. He turns to his side to give Baekhyun a quick look, and Baekhyun addresses him with the light upward tug on the corner of his mouth.

Cheeky, self-assured kid, he whispers to himself. He swallows hard, trying to ease the tightness in his throat. He only succeeds in choking on his spit. He closes his eyes, then, just trying to ease the tension in his muscles, but Baekhyun is relentless – the image of his smiling face burns at the back of his eyelids, claws Baekhyun-shaped doodles on his eyes so Myungsoo could see nothing but Baekhyun anywhere, everywhere, every single time.

The grind isn't until thirty minutes after, with a few representatives from the management joining them. He meets Kim Joonmyun, the producer in charge of Baekhyun's sound, and another talent by the name of 'Chen'. Chen seems to get along well with Baekhyun, but there's a challenge written in the way they exchange high-fives, in the way Chen says, "You better blow me away, Byun. I'm not about to waste my time here watching some rookie pose for the camera." Baekhyun takes it all in stride, though, shrugging and rolling his eyes, laughing when he can't find anything else to say but, "Whatever, Jongdae. Whatever."

"They go way, way back, if that's what you're wondering," Sunggyu tells him just before the shoot starts. "The Voice of Korea co-finalist. He was in the final three with Baekhyun. Jongdae got a deal with SM, as well, but not the same package as Baekhyun's. But I mean, a contract is a contract. Baekhyun might have signed a longer contract with SM but there's no telling–"

"He _will_ make it big," Myungsoo says, _declares._ It sounds too serious, even coming from him. It sounds different, but he can hear a hint of himself there, somewhere. So he clears his throat, then adds, "Baekhyun's very passionate about this. If SM really thought that the other guy was better then he'd have let him debut earlier than Baekhyun. Surely, the management hadn't promised a fixed debut date."

By the end of his spiel, Sunggyu already has an eyebrow raised at him. "The 'other guy''s name is Chen. And you're right, SM didn't promise to have them debut at a certain date." He flexes his fingers, bending them back then cracking his knuckles. "And I think SM's planning to get you to shoot Chen's promotional photos, too. No guarantees, but I heard them talking about it a few days back. Just a heads up."

I'm not interested in this Chen guy, he wants to say. He's already got his hands full with Baekhyun, as it is. Then he still has his freelance commitments, projects that he's set to work on with Howon. But it would be stupid to turn down another offer from SM, to turn down an opportunity to make a big name in the photography industry and effect the sort of change that he's aways wanted to see in media and advertising. Most 'picture-takers' these days just take photos of people and things but don't take into consideration the message that the photograph is supposed to communicate. They are just trigger-happy picture-takers without a goal in mind but to just make some art, be cool, et cetera et cetera. The sort of shit that, when recognized as beautiful pieces of art, makes him and Howon cringe and want to throw up.

He's not one of those. He's been advocating tasteful photo direction for years already. He's helped Red Balloon's clients win big awards and establish a good name in the market through his photography, by communicating a message through the best camera angle and knowing exactly when to click the shutter release. He doesn't just snap pictures with reckless abandon; he waits for the perfect moment, holds his breath until he sure he's got the exposure and composition nailed before framing the moment in the viewfinder. And that's the difference – he captures moments and scenes, not just figures against the light. He records lives and immortalizes them through photographs. Not everyone can do that.

SM needs someone like that to make their artists seem, _feel_ like gods. And the truth is that he needs SM to give his career a boost, as well.

"I'll believe it when they talk to me about it," Myungsoo says. He takes a deep breath and digs his hands in his pockets, then turns his back on the topic by walking to the center of the set. Over his shoulder, he can hear Sunggyu's laughter, the one that he's known for years to mean, 'You know, it's possible for good things to come in more than threes to a person. There's nothing wrong with embracing luck and holding it close to your chest. There's nothing wrong about it, at all.'

He snorts. He's too old for happily ever afters, too young to face certain harsh realities. But it's no time to be thinking of these things. There's work to be done. There are photos to be shot. They only have half a day to cross off all the shots in their list so they can get a move on and think of the concept for the next season. So he takes a deep breath and claps his hands in the air, rounding everyone up. "Okay, time to work! Positions, everyone! Crew, I need you on standby!"

He looks to his side and walks over to where Baekhyun and the Chen guy are. They're close, too close, so much that it looks as if there's no gap between them. But there is. From where Myungsoo is, he can see the few good inches between them enough to allow them space to breathe. Proximity's never been much of an issue for Baekhyun, though. He's already looking for heat, craving contact. Surrounding himself with warm things but squinting at the first sign of intense light. Baekhyun is a study in contrasts, on going and offering something new everyday. And as much as Myungsoo is a patient learner, there are just some things that he's more comfortable being certain of – Baekhyun's constant presence beside him, Baekhyun's frame warm in the snug fit of their bodies.

"Break time's over, _kid,_ " he says, drawling the last few syllables on purpose when he arrives at his destination. Baekhyun looks up, then, but doesn't quite pull away from Chen just yet. Their fingers are intertwined at the tips, yet there's no strain in their arms, no strain in the way they keep themselves in this link. Myungsoo's stomach turns, lurches, tumbles in several different directions. He feels sick. He feels like throwing up.

"Time to work, Baek. He's looking for you," Myungsoo catches Chen saying. Myungsoo inches closer and addresses Chen with a nod. He has the face of an idol, a smile that can win the hearts of thousands. His voice is soft and playful and tickles Myungsoo's insides. And he's holding Baekhyun's hand like they've always been meant to fit. "Hi. Sorry for keeping your talent from you. As you may already know, he's way too chatty for his own good."

Oh, you _know_ him, he wants to ask, but he bites the inside of his cheek to push the words down his throat. Instead, he answers, "He is. Glad someone else thinks the same." Chen laughs and _there it is,_ the reason he got signed by SM Entertainment. If Baekhyun has a distinct tone then Chen has a bright voice that can make people stop in their tracks and just marvel at him. If Baekhyun's all shy smiles hidden behind his hand then Chen is all bright laughter and big grins that lift the fatigue in his features in the blink of an eye.

He'll make it big, Myungsoo muses. He shifts his gaze, studying the expression on Baekhyun's face. His head is tilted to the side and he's humming. He's waiting for his cue. And he's looking straight at Myungsoo in the eye as if reminding him that, 'We have a shoot. We can't waste time.'

Myungsoo's camera feels too heavy on his own shoulders. He doesn't even have his telephoto lens loaded; he's using his fixed lens. It's supposed to be light. Lighter. His toes aren't supposed to be curling. "Sorry for... having to cut your chit chat," he continues. "I promise to return him in one piece. I just have to borrow him for a few hours."

Baekhyun cocks his eyebrows in response. His lips press together in a thin line before tugging up in a smirk. Beside him, Chen snorts and says, "Oh _God,_ no need. He's all yours. I doubt he'd like to spend time with me, anyway. He hates me."

"I hate your talent and your face. Your cheeks can cut glass," Baekhyun grumbles. Chen only laughs in response and gives Myungsoo a salute before turning on his heel. He stops midway through, though, and reaches over to pinch Baekhyun in his side before running off and disappearing behind the door.

Once the door shuts behind Chen, Baekhyun turns to face from and greets Myungsoo with a small smile. "Hi," he says in a tiny voice, so soft that he could've just been breathing. Myungsoo can read the movement of this lips, though, can see him press the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth to produce a hard 'n' sound that sounds nothing like an exhale. "Hello there, Kim Myungsoo."

" _Director_ Kim Myungsoo," he reminds Baekhyun. Baekhyun jerks back a little, but the glimmer in his eyes hasn't faded yet. He's still smiling. And he has one hand on Myungsoo's hip, the other passive in his side. Myungsoo tries not to shiver. "And hello to you, too."

Baekhyun snorts. His lips are parted just a little, but no sound comes out. Instead, he just stares at Myungsoo, expecting him to – say something? Do something? It's hard to tell. They can complete sentences in Line conversations, when they're eating outside the SM building or shuffled to one cab and forced to ride home together. But here in the SM building where they're reminded of that one afternoon, that time back in the bathroom when there was no one but their own selves in the mirror to witness Baekhyun leave two nasty scars on Myungsoo's skin, they always get stuck at the hi's and hello's. They get stuck in each other's orbit, paths crossing but heavenly bodies never colliding. It's almost normal now, finding Baekhyun glued to his side and just staying there, not saying a thing. It shouldn't be normal. There's probably a song for this, right, something Baekhyun can use to express himself when his own vocabulary fails him? There's got to be at least one song that can translate Baekhyun's thoughts into words.

Sick of the standstill, Myungsoo looks away. He looks over his shoulder then says, "We have a shoot."

Baekhyun's Adam's apple bobs in his throat. His grip on Myungsoo loosens, and soon he's pulling away with an easy smile. "Right. We have a shoot."

We can have something else, Myungsoo muses, wants to say, wants to whisper, but what's the point? Baekhyun doesn't know how to speak. He doesn't know how to question. All he knows for sure is how to hold a camera and communicate emotions through the proper use of exposure, depth of field, focus. All he knows is that they need at least a hundred shots to be able pick out five or seven from this batch that will make the final print. So he walks to where his camera is and grips the body of the camera tight. He boots the camera and adjusts the white balance. There should be a setting here for subjects that burn so brightly that they wash their own selves out. There should be a setting here for photographers who know exactly what they want but don't know how to get it.

He takes a deep breath and looks into the viewfinder. "Okay. Three, two–" When his vision finally adjusts, he sees Baekhyun looking at the lens, staring straight at him.

Something thick and imposing lodges itself in his throat. He tries to swallow it down. Stubborn and stuck, it stays right there, keeping him from breathing properly. Keeping him too aware of Baekhyun's careful, discerning gaze magnified by the lens.

"–and, _action!_ "

ミ☆

"And it's a wrap!"

Myungsoo claps his hands in the air and bows to the crew and the rest of Baekhyun's team. Behind him, he can hear Sehun mumbling something about being really hungry but the photos coming out great. Jongin mentions something about being really sleepy but feeling great about discovering a new combination of studio lights that can set an idol aglow. It's not in the lighting, Myungsoo wants to say. It's in the model, the talent. Baekhyun carries around with him a light of his own that only goes out when he's dead tired and slumped against the glass in the practice room. Or when he's in the van, snoozing fitfully in his seat. Rare are the times when there isn't a glimmer in his eyes, when he loses the enthusiasm he has for working hard and improving himself to be the idol he wants to be. He's that kind of guy – he pushes other people to work hard but pushes himself even more, until he reaches tipping point. And when he does he only ends up doing better than before.

Baekhyun's better at smiling now, at keeping his cheeks from stiffening seven, eight shots into holding a single pose. He doesn't hunch his shoulders anymore, either, keeps his spine straight even when he's resting between takes. "This is my angle, right?" he'd ask from time to time, craning his neck to meet Myungsoo's eyes on the other side of the set, and Myungsoo would nod or flash him two thumbs up or mouth, 'You look good in any angle.'

"Thanks for your hard work," Myungsoo says, giving Sehun and Jongin a pat on the back. He acknowledges the stylists' efforts, as well, telling them that they've outdone themselves after addressing Sunggyu's concern on Baekhyun's atrocious outfit. The make up artists, too, because Baekhyun has this bad habit of rubbing his eyes and smearing his eyeliner even if the make up artists have already sprayed a color setter on him. In the course of a shoot, they have to retouch his make up every five minutes. Baekhyun sweats a lot, moves a lot. He does everything in excess.

Except talk properly, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. He shuns that thought away, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. He helps the crew pack up the lights and mouths at Sunggyu when he manages to catch him, 'Hyung, I'm really hungry'.

"That's what you get for not eating during shoots," Sunggyu tells Myungsoo later, while he slides the tripod inside its case and hands it to the lights crew. Myungsoo gives them a curt nod before turning to his side, meeting Sunggyu's gaze. "Seriously, what's a bite or two or a five-minute break? You keep skipping meals because you work too hard."

"I thought working hard was supposed to be a good thing?"

"It's good when you take breaks _from time to time._ " Sunggyu snarls at him. "You've been like this since–"

Since those dark days when he'd spend hours upon hours locked up in the dark room with Woohyun, developing negatives and something else. He'd be so caught up in their work and caught up in the web of Woohyun's embrace, the press of Woohyun's chest to his back, hot and sticky despite the cold air around them. They'd only exchange a few words because Myungsoo wouldn't want any external factors to affect the development of the film. Then they'd touch each other while they wait for the photos to be developed, for the first sign of an image to surface on the paper. "I always look amazing in your photos," Woohyun would say, then wrap his arms around Myungsoo's waist. And Myungsoo would throw his head back, throw all caution to the wind, and surrender to Woohyun's warm embrace.

He'd never looked at a dark room the same way ever since.

He wasn't able to use a dark room again properly until years after, when he moved to his new place in Ilsandong just a few blocks away from his old house. He tried to relearn old tricks, find himself in the dark again before painting himself in light. It took a while, and at the end of the road were freelance projects, invitations to exhibits. Things in life better than fretting about the past. Work was effective in helping him forget a lot of bad memories. It was one of those few things work was useful for.

He clears his throat and blinks a few times. Sunggyu hadn't been saying anything the whole time, he's positive. Sunggyu's lips are still parted the same way that they were before, poised between the past and the present, like he's thinking twice about blurting things out and fishing an age-old picture from his wallet so they can laugh at it.

"I find it hard to get back in the zone once I step out of it. So I try to stay away from as distractions as much as possible," Myungsoo says. He takes his coat from where it's hanging on the monoblock and slips it on. "Besides, delayed gratification makes eating a more pleasurable experience."

Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him. "No drinks tonight," he mumbles, then tugs on Myungsoo's sleeve. Myungsoo lets himself be dragged out of the set and the SM building, to a samgyupsal place that has become their staple dinner place after long and tiring shoots.

Baekhyun joins them a few minutes after, emerging from the comfort room with a thin layer of make up that might as well be his very own skin. The pimples have subsided considerably now. Maybe Baekhyun's been sleeping better _and_ more, actually taking time out from working too hard to the point of spraining his ankles every few weeks. He's still limping a bit, though, and his eyes are red-rimmed. "No, I haven't been crying," he clarifies when Sunggyu draws circles around his eyes. "I got make up in my eyes. I love Nearly Naked and all but shit, that thing fucking stings in the eyes when you wash it off the wrong way. Took me three washes or something to take all my make up off–"

There's nothing wrong with crying, though, Myungsoo wants to say. It's better to let things out than to keep the all inside, just waiting to burst. He says none of those and, instead, snorts. After a while, he finishes, "Only to apply foundation again. _Right._ "

"Yeah, shit on me some more. That would be nice of you," Baekhyun groans, narrowing his eyes at him. It's hard to tell if Baekhyun's eyes just really ache or he's trying to leer at him, push him away. Either way, Myungsoo doesn't give in, doesn't tear his gaze from Baekhyun's own, just keeps it there where he can see himself reflected in Baekhyun's eyes.

"I can't go around bare-faced now," Baekhyun reasons. Beside Myungsoo, Sunggyu nods then laughs as if an afterthought. It's not supposed to be funny. The idol way of thinking is sick and twisted sometimes. "SM mandate. Must look presentable at all times."

"You look like shit right now, though," Sunggyu argues. He takes a step forward, descending the first flight of stairs leading the exit. "Fix your hair."

Sunggyu walks ahead of them, not stopping in his descent until he reaches the final flight. Baekhyun, meanwhile, still hasn't moved, hasn't even budged an inch. His eyes are bright, glimmering. The dark circles under them are more pronounced than ever, but they don't take away the life in Baekhyun's eyes. This can be a greeting, Myungsoo thinks. This can be Baekhyun's way of saying hello, how are you, I'm not sure if we should talk about it but there's _something_ that we have to talk about. Do you feel me? He does. He can't read Baekhyun just yet, though, not right now, just a few minutes shy of midnight with fatigue pounding at the back of his head without the slightest mercy.

"I can't see myself," Baekhyun mutters, then looks at Myungsoo through the narrow slits of his bangs. "Help?"

You're just fixing his hair, Myungsoo. He's not asking you to fix his life. Don't think too much into it, _don't give in–_ "What if I mess it up even more?"

"You won't," Baekhyun says. _Declares,_ like he's so sure Myungsoo isn't capable of playing a prank on anyone. Myungsoo's tempted to do exactly that. "You're too concerned about my face. You need it to perform your job properly."

"Wanna bet?"

Baekhyun scoffs, rolls his eyes. He hugs coat closer to himself and shivers. "Nah, there's no point. You'll lose whatever happens."

"Asshole," Myungsoo mumbles. Still, he evens out the tousled tuft of hair and combs Baekhyun's hair to the sides.

Late, late dinner is by a food truck. Sunggyu isn't craving soju and Baekhyun still has enough energy to remain on his feet, so they stick close to the food truck and lean back against the walls in between bites. They share two orders of tteokbokki and some odeng. Sunggyu orders bungeoppang to punctuate his dinner because, "My mouth's flaring up, _geez._ " He wheezes, sniffs, shivers when the cool wind blows. His tolerance for cold goes way, way down when he's just finished eating hot food. It's hilarious.

"Pssh. Lightweight," Baekhyun says, then waves at the lady and asks for some odeng broth. To Sunggyu, he says, "Try this, hyung. It might help you get warm again. I mean, it's just soup, not something you have to chew for your stomach to process."

"I need alcohol in my body to make me warm, not soup."

"And you need this broth so that you won't get a hangover after." Baekhyun finishes with a wink, then holds the bowl in front of Sunggyu. "Come on, hyung, it's for your own good!"

Sunggyu groans before taking the bowl in his hands, blowing at the mostly clear liquid before taking a light sip. Baekhyun's face glows with _something_ , a weird sort of light that lifts the fatigue pulling down at the corners of his lips. He moves closer to Sunggyu, rubbing small circles on his back and whispering, "Okay, just a bit mo– Alright, that's great!" like he's talking to a kid, like he's been taking care of people for the longest time. Making sure they're not skipping meals because of work or making sure that his friends are already tucked in bed, wishing them a good night via text.

Baekhyun _would_ be the type to do that. He'd know how to take care of others but be shit at taking care of himself. He'd let his lips dry but keep convincing someone to drink hot soup to warm them up. He'd offer to feed someone before having lunch. And he'd be the type to look over his shoulder, searching Myungsoo's features for a clue of sorts, before saying, "You don't want this, right? Because if you do, I'll just get you a fresh bowl."

Sunggyu kicks him in the calf. "How come we have to share and he gets an entire bowl to himself?"

"Because he's my–" Baekhyun stops midway through, chomping his teeth on air and crushing the cold in his mouth. He gulps hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He presses his lips together. So Myungsoo waits – for Baekhyun to find his words again, for Baekhyun to say exactly what he wants to say _how_ he wants to say it. Somehow, the message gets lost somewhere between his mind and his throat. The sounds get choked down by some force, pushed down Baekhyun's throat never to be unearthed ever again.

Baekhyun's lips quirk up at the corners and his cheeks lift a little. "He did all of the hard work and you almost fell asleep halfway through, hyung," he says after a while. "You don't even deserve a fourth of the soup."

Sunggyu rolls his eyes. "Why did I let you two meet?"

"Because you needed my superior photography skills," Myungsoo answers without batting an eyelash. He doesn't say, because you thought I needed the change in environment, the change in perspective. Because you knew what exactly I needed that time and it was to force myself out of this nasty slump. Beside Sunggyu, Baekhyun laughs a little. "And you needed me to make him look good on camera."

"Whoa there, I'm naturally good-looking. I didn't need your 'superior photography–'" Baekhyun's face falters, nose scrunching and the rest of his face getting really messed up as his eyes thin into slits and his words spill into laughter. He's shaking his head, though, eyebrows now knit but not in distress. His shoulders are still shaking. He still hasn't caught his breath. And Myungsoo's insides are still turning. It's not even because of hunger.

"I though you were on _my side, my team!_ "

I am, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he says, "I'm on _my_ side." He snatches the bowl of soup from Baekhyun's hands and takes a long sip. The liquid isn't as hot anymore, just the right temperature to be taken in huge amounts and rival the sizzle of heat traveling to his abdomen. It's not enough to still the lurching of his stomach, though. So he takes a deep breath, holds all the air in his lungs in when Baekhyun drops his hands to his sides and reveals that bright smile of his.

His mouth is a peculiar boxy shape, revealing all of his teeth. There's a hint of the gochujang from the tteokbokki at the corners, coloring his lips a bright red. And he's _wheezing_. He looks as if he's seconds away from falling face-first to the floor and curling up in laughter even if nothing's supposed to be funny. He's tired, drained, silly. Everything would probably be funny to Baekhyun right now. Sunggyu can say one of his lame jokes now and Baekhyun would laugh his ass off after making sure that people aren't watching him, observing him. This is it, Myungsoo muses, this is the same look that he was hoping would melt winter back in their shoot. He kept telling Baekhyun to just relax, "Don't mind the camera. It's just you and me here and you think I'm funny and you're laughing at me silly–" And Baekhyun just snorted, laughed, shook his head.

"You _are_ funny," Baekhyun said then, hours ago, back in the set. It's the same thing he's saying now between chuckles and gasps of air. They're a few blocks away from the building now. None of his fans know he's here. None of his fans can see him and snap pictures of his weird, scrunched up face. And it's midnight. It's half past the hour and they have a half-day shoot tomorrow. Call time is at ten in the morning. If he wants to get to Gangnam thirty minutes before call time then he has to get up seven in the morning, latest. If he wants to get up at such an early hour then a call from Baekhyun would help.

Baekhyun's voice awakens something inside him every single time. It rouses his senses. He asked for the demo of the summer track a few days ago and set it as his alarm. He'd wake up right after the first three lines. Then he'd have the song stuck in his head the whole day even after he's already listened to a new song from a different artist. Baekhyun has already carved a niche for himself inside Myungsoo that it's nigh impossible to get rid of him – the image of his smile, the sound of his voice – in one's system completely.

"Hey, _breathe,_ " Myungsoo mumbles, then offers Baekhyun some of his soup. Baekhyun resurfaces and takes the soup, downs it in a huge gulp. There's still laughter bubbling on his lips, though. "Easy, k–"

"Don't say it. You won't be my favorite anymore if you say that word," Baekhyun says, waving the barbecue stick he'd used for his odeng in the air.

Myungsoo laughs a little. His hear gives a tiny gallop in his chest. _My favorite,_ he repeats in his mind. Baekhyun's eyes, fixed on nothing, no one but him say the exact, same thing. "Easy, Baekhyun."

To the thumping in his chest, he says, be still. Don't take sides just yet. Don't give in.

ミ☆

The second and third shooting days see less snow and longer hours. Perfect timing, really, because they're on location and it's hard to set up lights on ground covered by a thick snow. Sehun and Jongin aren't complaining much, grumbling only when they power on the redheads too high that the snow blinds them. Sehun's solution: a blue gel that softens the light and makes it cooler. At least the snow doesn't receive the brunt force of the studio lights anymore. And Baekhyun doesn't have to wear sunglasses at the height of winter out in the streets just to shield his eyes from the harsh light.

"Ah, thank _God_ ," Baekhyun says, groaning in relief. He wrinkles his nose, burying it in his scarf for a moment before straightening up. Myungsoo walks over, the rolled up shot list tucked under his arm, and loosens the knot of Baekhyun's scarf. It isn't atrocious, but it does give Baekhyun an escape route for when he wants to hide his smile behind _something._ And Myungsoo can't afford that. He's been spending hours upon hours trying to capture that smile perfectly and he's not about to give himself an even harder time by allowing Baekhyun to duck to his scarf at the first sign of laughter. "What are you doing? I'm _cold!_ "

"And you're going to ruin your make up if you keep doing that. I told you, the color setter can only do so much." He swats Baekhyun's hand away when Baekhyun attempts to tighten his scarf around his neck. "If you keep doing that, I swear to God, Byun, I'm going to kick your balls."

Baekhyun snorts. "Ooh, I'm so scared. I'm _cowering_ in fear."

Myungsoo looks up from his work and cocks an eyebrow at Baekhyun. Baekhyun slips into a small smile, meeting Myungsoo's gaze with bright eyes. "You're _what?_ "

"I'm a good boy. And I won't fuck up my make up even if I end up dying in the cold."

"And you won't give me a hard time by being difficult," Myungsoo adds. He takes a step back, taking a good look at his handiwork, then smiles a little. "And we'll make this quick so we can play later."

It sounds wrong when taken out of context. They're playing Pokemon later, in the van – that's it, nothing else. Myungsoo promised last night to bring his DS and show Baekhyun all the Pokemon he'd bred and trained for himself on the condition that they finish at least an hour earlier than their expected wrap up time. Baekhyun promised to be on his best behavior. If they end up extending because Baekhyun spends 30% of the shooting time just trying to summon the right smile on his lips then he has to go back to SM to practice. And Myungsoo has to tag along because apparently, he gives good feedback on Baekhyun's dancing. In hindsight, it's not a fair tradeoff. He loses on both counts – loses free time for himself, and loses his sanity in Baekhyun's presence.

"I could introduce you to one of my dancer friends." Howon would have better input. He used to be in the dance troupe back in college, after all. Myungsoo simply watched his shows on tape. "Met him back in my old work. He's a much better dan–"

" _No,_ " Baekhyun interrupted, shaking his head. "I don't need to hear what he has to say. I already have you." He kept his eyes locked onto Myungsoo's own the whole time. And Myungsoo tried not to flinch, tried not to shiver under Baekhyun's curious gaze.

He tries to do the same now, when Baekhyun holds onto him longer than he should. He drops his gaze to where his hands are on Baekhyun's chest, the pads of this fingers just barely touching the tips of the scarf. His palm is on Baekhyun's coat and he presses down on the material when he feels a tingle of cold wrap around his knees. His pulse is strong in his palms, loud in the back of his ears. Baekhyun's breathing is shallow. And his lips aren't chapped for once. Then again, his make up has just been retouched. Unless he likes eating his lip balm – it's raspberry today, the flavor he likes least – there's no reason for the cracks on his lips to show.

"Hi," Baekhyun says, a bit breathless. His teeth chatter.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. Here they go again. "Hello."

They'd gone a whole day yesterday without a conversation filled with nothing but greetings. Baekhyun _had_ been using his words, expressing himself through sentences instead of leaving it up to his limbs to communicate his message. During the first break, Baekhyun slipped next to Myungsoo and asked if they could check the photos on the laptop together. All other seats were taken, so Baekhyun sat on Myungsoo's lap without preamble and wrapped one of Myungsoo's arms around his waist. It was okay, _understandable._ Baekhyun was tired and wanted to rest his sore feet. And Myungsoo was there, available. Convenient. But then Baekhyun slotted his fingers between Myungsoo's own. Their hands were cold and shaking. Baekhyun's humming had turned into soft giggles when Myungsoo whisper-counted with his lips pressed to the back of Baekhyun's ear. So Myungsoo was left scrolling up and down with his left hand. He had very little control over the left side of his body. _Big deal._ At least Baekhyun knew what he wanted to happen – "Scroll up and– Oh, that's good. I look great in that one. This whole series, actually. Can you mark that then let's run it by hyung later?" A squeeze of the hand, then, "No one makes me smile quite like you do."

 _Godfuckingdammit,_ Byun Baekhyun, Myungsoo remembers himself thinking. His heart was racing in his chest and Baekhyun was leaning back. Their cheeks were pressed together. And they were _working_ They were the only ones in that side of the production tent that time. There was no one around them to question whatever Baekhyun was up to. They were safe.

Myungsoo's mind, however, wasn't.

"I promise–" Baekhyun begins, then clears his throat. He looks around again and takes a few steps forward, dipping his hands inside the pockets of Myungsoo's coat. "To be a good boy today so we can play later."

His mouth curls up at the corners and his eyes twinkle. His shoulders are shaking. It's not from the cold. And Baekhyun is slowly tucking his chin like he means to bury his face in his scarf even before he can start laughing at his own 'joke', but there's nowhere to hide. His scarf is in too loose a loop now that he'll have to bring it close to his face if he wanted to keep people from seeing him laugh, to deprive Myungsoo of his big and bright smile. So he has to make a choice – either he pulls away, takes a step back, and frees his hands from the warm cocoon of Myungsoo's fingers so he can laugh behind the thick material of his coat, or he keeps his hands there, keeps his eyes on Myungsoo, and keeps convincing Myungsoo that he'll be a good boy even if he's breaking the same promise right here, right now.

"Bullshit," Myungsoo whispers. He sticks out his tongue at Baekhyun but regrets it when he feels a fleck of snow land on his tongue. It's too much, too cold. And Baekhyun's beaming at him too brightly that he's stunned, rooted to the same spot with no chance of ever turning back. So he holds on a little longer before pulling away, before turning on his heel and kicking at the ground. They have to work. There are shots to be taken. And Baekhyun's bouncing on the balls of his feet, too bright and too eager to keep his promise and cross off all the shots in today's list so Myungsoo give him a thumbs up. Maybe more.

ミ☆

"Okay, enough with the make up, _please,_ " Myungsoo groans. Jinri holds up her index finger in front of him and taps the tip of his nose thrice. "Jinri, I am _not_ going out on a date so please–"

Sunggyu has just finished picking out the shots that they'll be using for the winter concept. There are 600 shots all in all, and from the wide pool Sunggyu has chosen around ten, fifteen shots for editing and a bit of color correction. He'd reminded Myungsoo to lighten Baekhyun's dark circles earlier, saying, "I know Tiffany's done a great job with the make up but he moves too damn much. There's no telling what he'll do to his face and–" Fifteen minutes into the shoot, Baekhyun's make up begins to melt under the pressure of the redheads shining down on him. Twenty minutes after, Tiffany won't be able to resist the urge to raise her hand and walk closer to the set to retouch Baekhyun's make up. There are some things that you just can't easily remedy during production. The good thing is that there's Photoshop to help them out. It's a minor thing, anyway; Myungsoo can lighten the dark circles even with his eyes closed.

But why would he if he's editing Baekhyun's photos, if he gets to study the shape of Baekhyun's mouth and the bridge of his nose and the slope of his neck? "Yeah, try to remove those... scratch marks, oh my _God_. Has be been scratching his neck– I told him–" And then Baekhyun hid behind Myungsoo, used him as a shield, used that instance as an excuse to slip his arms around Myungsoo's waist and tuck his chin on Myungsoo's shoulder.

"Finally, you stopped moving," Jinri says now, then applies one last thin sheet of BB cream. "You're already gorgeous, I know that, but being a friend of an idol like Baekhyun-oppa means having to be presentable, too. You're SM now. You're one of us." Jinri takes a deep breath and leans back, dropping her hands to Myungsoo's shoulder. She twists her mouth a little then leans in to... maybe even out the make up on Myungsoo's cheek. That's what it feels like, at least. "I know it's silly but you have to be conscious of how you dress and act when you're around Baekhyunnie-oppa now."

 _Baekhyunnie-oppa._ It doesn't sound like an idol's name. It sound like a puppy's name. And Baekhyun's looking over Jinri's shoulder, a corner of his mouth tugging up when he catches Myungsoo's gaze.

"We're not friends," Myungsoo says after a while. When Jinri finally puts the cap of the BB cream back on, he says, "Thank you."

"Well, for two people who aren't friends, you sure are close. Comfortable with each other." Jinri sucks in her bottom lip. " _Very_ comfortable."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He's never been called out on his friendship with Baekhyun before, not in all the months that he's knows the latter. Sunggyu has never questioned their connection, their level of familiarity with each other, but maybe that's because Sunggyu has always been there to witness their interactions, hear their conversations. He's been with them everytime they went out for dinner, stayed in the SM building too late, has been there everytime they had to wait in the streets of Gangnam for a cab. He's seen the links of their friendship fall into place, lock onto each other and form a strong enough bond to keep Baekhyun coming back for more. And he's seen Myungsoo slowly open up, share bits and pieces of himself with Baekhyun through their conversations.

But Sunggyu hasn't seen them tumble into a cab, hasn't seen them pressed so close together in the dark or in a closed space. In broad daylight and in the harsh studio lights, they are friends, co-workers who may be a bit too comfortable with each other. But in the dark, when shadows pull them together and sometimes keep them apart, they're different people – Baekhyun without his bright laughter and glimmer, but armed with the sweet allure of his soft 'hi's, his feather-light touches. Myungsoo more unsure, more uncertain than before, but more relenting and willing at the slightest brush of Baekhyun's knuckles against his skin.

Myungsoo laughs a little. It comes out more like a croak than anything else. It makes him cringe. "I guess it's because we're of the same age. It's easy to be friendly with your same-aged acquaintances."

Jinri cocks an eyebrow at him, like she means to say more. She doesn't. Instead, she shrugs and gives the tip of his nose a light pinch. "Whatever you say, oppa," she whispers. She evens out the make up on the area she'd just touched, then turns on her heel to leave. "Whatever you say."

Baekhyun takes Jinri's place in front of him, one hand on his waist and the other clutching his phone. The display's lit up, showing one of Baekhyun's message trails. From where Myungsoo is, he can't make out the text, but there's no mistaking the recipient of the messages – there's 'Jongdae' in big, bold characters smack in the top middle of the message header, and a message bubble from Baekhyun, saying, _well that shoot was fun c:_

"So what exactly did she do to you?" Baekhyun asks now, leaning closer and bending his knees. He's squinting his eyes like it's so difficult to spot the difference, like Jinri really hasn't done much. She _has_. It's been months since Myungsoo last wore an ample amount of make up that isn't lip balm, years since he last wore more than one layer of BB cream or foundation. So it shouldn't be too hard to see the difference, to be able to spot the lack of pimples on his right cheek and the missing blemish on his left.

Baekhyun traces the curve of Myungsoo's face with his fingers, just two, his nails grazing Myungsoo's skin a little. Myungsoo takes a deep breath. His toes curl. He balls his hands into loose fists. And he feels a trickle of sweat trace the same path that Baekhyun had just drawn on earlier, stopping when it catches on Baekhyun's nail. Baekhyun flicks that off with a light movement of his finger, with a small smile. "I can't see the difference. You look the same."

Myungsoo snorts. Baekhyun has the worst pick up lines, if he's trying to make Myungsoo feel something at all. If he isn't, then he's just really bad at not flirting with everything that breathes. "Don't let her hear you saying that unless you want her to fuck up your make up for the spring shoot."

"Well, I have a month or two to win her heart back if she _does_ overhear–" Baekhyun looks over his shoulder, craning his neck. Jinri had disappeared around the block earlier, a minute ago. Maybe Tiffany grabbed her by the wrist and showed her that thing she's been raving about for hours, since the shoot started. Sunggyu isn't in sight, and neither are Sehun and Jongin. Sensing that they're safe, close to being alone, Baekhyun turns back to Myungsoo, the same sly smile on his lips. "Okay, I'm safe. Really, you look the same. Can't see why she'd like to put make up on your face when there's nothing to hide."

"It's–" Nothing you should be concerned about, Myungsoo wants to say. Jinri was just bothered by the budding pimples on Myungsoo's cheeks. Myungsoo gets it, the insane urge to make things right when all the wrong things are glaring at you, begging to be corrected. That's one of the reasons why he picked up photography – so he could show everyone that there's always something more to what the naked eye sees. So he could direct people's attention to that one thing that's beautiful amidst the chaos.

"It's what?" Baekhyun asks. He's stopped inching closer but, then again, he's only a breath, a decision away. He's close enough that Myungsoo can see the short length of Baekhyun's eye lashes, the way light catches on them. The way they paint shadows on his cheeks, too – now rid of the thick layer of make up that was covering his skin earlier, giving him a different identity, a mask to wear.

"For protection," Myungsoo answers. Protection from the sun, the cold, the sudden heat when he least expects it. A thin layer of protection that can keep Baekhyun from noticing the light pink flush on his cheeks. Baekhyun doesn't pick up the last bit. Instead, he presses his palms flat on Myungsoo's knees. Their foreheads bump a little. "From a lot of things."

"How about people?" Baekhyun asks, humming.

"I don't think so," Myungsoo admits. He takes a deep breath, licks his lips. When Baekhyun drops his gaze to the swell of his lips, Myungsoo closes his eyes. 

And then the zipped-up door behind Baekhyun makes a snapping sound. Then noise from outside seeps through the narrow opening even before they hear the first step land on the ground. Then Baekhyun pulls away with a tiny jerk, like everything's caught up to him – the fact that they're in a pop-up tent and that they're supposed to be packing the laptop in front of them already. The whole production crew, ten, fifteen people just beyond the thin sheet of fabric keeping them warm here inside. Sunggyu waiting for them because he's, 'So fucking hungry, I could eat a horse. Or not.' The thick wall of uncertainties between them, broken down to smithereens only when they're alone, when there's either silence or the shadows to shield them from everyone's view.

"We should get going," Myungsoo mumbles, then puts his laptop on standby. Baekhyun nods and helps Myungsoo pack up, unplugging the charger.

Sunggyu walks inside, then, approaching them from behind and giving them a pat on the back. "Just had to make sure you two didn't get so engrossed in looking for the perfect photos," Sunggyu reasons out when he slips next to them. Myungsoo only looks up at him but doesn't retort, doesn't refute the statement. It happens a lot, losing track of time when Baekhyun makes everything slow down. When Baekhyun makes _staying_ not seem like such a bad thing. And this happens a lot, too – the two of them threading their fingers together, Baekhyun holding onto him longer than the usual. So there's nothing special about this. Baekhyun's just looking for someone to hang on to in case his knees give away. It has nothing to do with having to hold back or Baekhyun almost, almost, _almost_ leaning in to kiss him but pulling away just before their lips touch. It has nothing to do with Baekhyun trying to keep Myungsoo close, trying to hold his hand under the thick material of their coats.

Myungsoo drops his gaze to the light link of their fingers and looks up at Baekhyun. Baekhyun's cheeks are flushed and pink. His lips are, too. He's just cold, too cold, so Myungsoo tightens his grip on Baekhyun's hand and doesn't let go even when Sunggyu casts them a long, curious look. Friends hold hands all the time. No big deal.

ミ☆

"You and Baekhyun are getting pretty chummy."

Myungsoo looks up from where he's dissecting the boiled okra on his plate. Three bottles of soju in and he's pretty darn sure the alcohol's gotten better of him. His vision is blurry. His limbs are sore. His temples are pulsating and there's a weird beat drumming at the back of his eyes. And Sunggyu's looking at him with the most serious look when he'd just been laughing earlier. It all seems out of place, even as Myungsoo helps himself to the soju in his shot glass that he'd declined earlier in favor of water.

"He's pretty fun and amusing," Myungsoo answers after a while. He looks up, craning his neck to check if the line for the washroom has gotten shorter. Baekhyun's still in the same place where he'd started. It's been five minutes since he's gotten up and decided to give in to the cries of his bladder. He turns his attention back to Sunggyu, then, and starts drawing figures on the table. His nails are longer than the usual, so when he accidentally drags his nail too hard it sends a nasty sting to every part of him, jolts him awake and out of his state of inebriation. "If you can look past his being annoying, I mean. He can be loud and very stubborn at times, but only during breaks. When he's working, he's focused and pours his heart and soul into whatever he's doing."

"And during breaks, I see you two talking a lot. And I see him sitting on your lap," Sunggyu mutters. He takes a sip of the ice-cold water and seethes when the ice cube makes contact with his teeth. "You think no one sees, Soo? Well, guess what: I do. And I've seen the way you react to everything he does."

Oh yeah? Then tell me, Myungsoo wants to say, but he knows better than to challenge Sunggyu. Not now, he tells himself, don't attack him like this. You're both drunk and tired and maybe too loose-lipped. Nothing good can come out of this. So instead, he says, "He's a very touchy person. I bet he gets that physical with almost everyone he's comfortable with–"

"And he's only comfortable with some – Tiffany, me, you, maybe Jongin because Jongin's nice to everyone who gives him candy," Sunggyu continues. He tilts his head, searching for Myungsoo's gaze. Myungsoo doesn't give it to him yet. There are probably too many things written on his face right now. His mouth might be quirked in a way that gives him away. There might be words scrawled on the corners of his eyes. He needs to sort them into their respective emotions boxes first, make sure that his feelings and thoughts aren't all over the place. He needs to collect himself once and for all. "He tries to be nice to everyone but there are only a handful of people he'd reach out for and _hold hands with._ And I don't know why and how, Myungsoo, but I can see that you're one of those people."

Myungsoo sets down the glass of water he's been hiding behind and takes a deep breath. "So?"

Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him, leaning back. His head is still tilted a little, and the redness in his eyes has lifted a little. Sunggyu looks more sober now, but he doesn't look any less confused. If anything, he looks like there are voices in his mind screaming questions he can't articulate in his slightly inebriated state. 'What the hell do you mean by that?' is the clearest at the moment.

"So what if we're becoming good friends?" Myungsoo continues. "So what if... So what if we're getting too comfortable? We're of the same age. We have overlapping interests. He knows things about photography that people who aren't passionate won't even have an idea of. And I know this and that about what he's passionate about. I mean, he has questionable taste in coffee but–" He laughs a little, scratches the slope of his neck with a single nail. Maybe Baekhyun's a bit too loud for his own liking, but that only happens when Baekhyun's talking about something he's really excited about or when there are large groups of people surrounding him, _expecting_ him to say something. So what would Baekhyun do? He's supposed to please people, right? Because that's what he's been trained to do. That's what SM has been molding him to become–

Sunggyu slams his hands on the table, just loud enough to startle Myungsoo but not quite enough to get the attention of the other people in the room. His knuckles are pale, white. And they're saying something. 'No mixing play with pleasure, hyung,' Myungsoo wants to say in response, but he's not drunk enough to pull off something like that. So he waits. He waits for Sunggyu to part his lips to speak, for Sunggyu to say what he should've said years ago.

"He's an idol, Myungsoo," Sunggyu says. He takes a deep breath, inhaling noisily through his nose. Myungsoo cranes his neck again. Baekhyun's just one person away from the door. Soon, he'll be done with his business there. And soon, he'll be linking his ankle with Myungsoo's own again under the table, their hands too far away from each other. "And he's debuting in August. That's six months from now and we've been working hard on that. You _do_ remember, right?"

"Of course," Myungsoo answers. He meets Sunggyu's gaze again. Sunggyu's eyebrows are no longer furrowed in confusion, but the tight knot hasn't eased yet. It makes Myungsoo's insides turn. It doesn't feel the way Baekhyun makes his stomach lurch or his toes curl. "He's debuting."

"In six months," Sunggyu reiterates.

"In six months, _I know,_ " Myungsoo says through gritted teeth. He loosens his grip on the glass of water in his hands. "He's SM's golden ticket. I get it, I do."

What he means to say is, I know what I'm doing, hyung. I'm aware of where I put my hands or where my gaze lingers. But I don't know what _he's_ doing. Because hasn't it been Baekhyun who's been a mystery all this time? Isn't it Baekhyun who has difficulty articulating himself when he isn't singing or 'dancing'? Isn't it Baekhyun who's been leaning in too close then pulling away at the very last minute? So Myungsoo wants to say, don't ask me if I know what I'm getting myself into, hyung, because _I do._ Go ask that kid of yours what's going on in his mind. Don't put all the blame on me.

"So?" Sunggyu says, then, leaning closer and finally putting down his glass on the table. There's no hint of the redness in his eyes anymore, no pull of fatigue on his eyebrows or his cheeks. He'd look sober if not for the dusting of pink on his skin, crawling up his neck and settling just under his cheekbones. He wiggles his eyebrows. It's as if he's asking, what happens now? How will you react to whatever Baekhyun is doing? "What will you do now?" He finishes with a loud exhale, bottom lip caught between his teeth. More words pushed down his throat but crawling back up, threatening to fall from his trembling lips.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and tears his eyes from Sunggyu's focused gaze. He looks to his side, at Baekhyun's figure disappearing as he _finally_ steps inside the bathroom. This is it, he muses. This is his chance. He can leave now and leave a few bills with Sunggyu, still paying for his share of the meal. Then he can stay inside his flat forever and never come out. He can change numbers, change contact details and block Baekhyun on all messaging services available. Stop this _thing_ of theirs, whatever it is, right here, right now. But that's all him. There's no telling what will happen if Baekhyun ups his game and comes forward with a clear definition of what _this_ is. And it's all so silly. This isn't elementary where you can just up and leave and wear a different skin come high school. This is real life.

And he's still under a contract with SM Entertainment. He signed there, at the bottom of the expensive paper. He's just been given his first pay for the autumn shoot. So he can't just leave. It can't be as easy as that.

"I don't know, hyung," he admits. He drops his gaze to the traces of kimchi on his plate and repeats, fainter this time, as if he's just breathing, "I really don't know."

Sunggyu leans back in his seat and pours himself a shot of soju. Pours Myungsoo a generous amount, too, and bumps their glasses together in an attempt to catch Myungsoo's attention. Soon, Baekhyun rejoins them, hovering at the middle of the table for a while, looking at both directions before taking sides. Don't do it, Myungsoo wants to say. _Do the right thing._ But Baekhyun catches his gaze and offers him a smile, loose at the corners, big and bright. And then he's saying, "Cheers!" picking up his now-filled shot glass and raises it in the air. Myungsoo raises his own glass, then, not knowing what else to do, and brings it close to the center. He clinks his glass with Sunggyu's own, wincing a little at the sound. His knuckles brush against Baekhyun's. It's light enough to go unnoticed, but not enough feather-light for Sunggyu to miss the contact, to not cock an eyebrow at Myungsoo over the tangled mess of their shot glasses. Baekhyun doesn't flinch, doesn't jerk back. Instead, he holds Myungsoo's gaze as he takes the shot, as he swipes his tongue along his top lip and wears the same big smile at the end.

Baekhyun places his shot glass down at the middle and slips next to Myungsoo. Under the table, Myungsoo feels Baekhyun's warm hand on his knee, sliding up until Baekhyun's drawing lazy patterns on Myungsoo's thigh.

Myungsoo pours them all another round and takes a deep breath. Baekhyun's warmth seeps through his pants, numbs his senses until all he can feel is the hot and heavy thrum of arousal in his pants. In his mind, he counts down from three and braces himself for the impact of the flash:

One: Baekhyun gives his thigh a gentle squeeze.

Two: Baekhyun leans in just close enough for Myungsoo to catch the scent of alcohol in Baekhyun's breath. Or maybe that's his, but the voice that's saying, "Keep it coming," is definitely not his.

Three: He can feel Baekhyun's pulse beat fast against his skin, in tandem with his own.

He takes the shot straight up and closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid scoring a thick, hot line down his throat. His vision turns blissfully white for a moment, and then black the next. This is it, he thinks, the point of no return. So he leans his head on Baekhyun's shoulder in an attempt to still the racing in his chest despite Sunggyu's heavy, stern glance. Baekhyun snakes his hand around his shoulder in thoughtless response, up Myungsoo's nape until he can guide Myungsoo's head to find a better fit in his body.

There's no turning back.

ミ☆

They call it a day after their fourth bottle of soju. They would have stopped after their third, but by then the effects of alcohol had already worn off and Sunggyu was cold again. "One last bottle," Sunggyu then said, looking at Myungsoo with a careful gaze and kicking him under the table. It made sense – Myungsoo was the one paying for their drinks, after all. Half of their total alcohol order had been requested by Sunggyu. Sunggyu wouldn't stop giving the tip of his shoe tiny kicks as if he knew something was happening under there, where there was nothing but darkness and Baekhyun drawing lazy circles on Myungsoo's thigh. Baekhyun probably felt that, too, the jerking motion when Myungsoo's knuckles locked and his hand gave a funny twitch. He'd stopped doodling figures after that and simply lay his palm flat on the back of Myungsoo's hand, instead.

And now they're back in the streets of Gangnam, waiting at the curb for a cab to pass them by. "We'll drop you off, hyung," Baekhyun tells Sunggyu when Sunggyu almost topples over while walking a straight line. Sunggyu waves them off, but Myungsoo wraps his fingers around Sunggyu's wrist to steady him. "Seriously, I don't trust you to get out of a cab without falling flat on your face, hyung."

"Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence," Sunggyu mumbles. He hiccups, then looks to his side, meeting Myungsoo's gaze. His eyes aren't that sharp anymore, no longer carrying the same fire they had earlier when they talked about Myungsoo and Baekhyun's twisted friendship. There's still a hint of curiosity in them, though, in the light furrow of his eyebrows, the tilt of his head. Myungsoo loosens his grip, then, moving his hand to Sunggyu's back and running it up and down Sunggyu's spine in a slow, steady motion. "I can go home alone, though. Don't–" He laughs a little. "You know, at this point, you'd think I've already learned my lesson and leave my car at home because you two always get me ass drunk but–"

But there's a certain allure to the same old mistakes, to falling prey to the same old techniques and feeling the same old crippling feeling crawl up your spine again. There's something about feeling the same sensation wrap around your neck. Choke you and control you and make you lose all sense of logic. That's what Myungsoo feels whenever he steps inside a dark part of a room with Baekhyun following closely behind. That's what he feels when Baekhyun casts him a glance and reaches out, holding onto him by the hem of his jacket. He's familiar with it, and it's the same thing that makes him berate himself even more when he lays his free hand flat on Baekhyun's own even with Sunggyu's presence keeping them farther apart than the usual.

"But you never learn," Myungsoo finishes. Baekhyun would've said it – his lips are poised to deliver a snide remark, his mouth twisted to the side – but it sounds better coming from Myungsoo. Not as snarky but bearing the same message, softened only by the steady calm of his tone. Sunggyu snorts in acknowledgement. There isn't much that he can do when he's ass drunk and relying on two of his friends to help him stand properly, after all. "You're getting into a cab with us and we're dropping you off at your place, okay? Don't even think of saying no."

Sunggyu lets out a low exhale. "Fine. But at least let me pay for your fare. It's... This whole thing's just terribly inconvenient."

No, it isn't. This is a test. This is Sunggyu trying to see if Myungsoo's sober enough to realize that they're out in public, that they're in Gangnam, that there might be people who could be watching them. This is Sunggyu checking if Myungsoo _understands_ what they were talking about earlier, if he _remembers_ that 'Baekhyun's an idol. You know that, right? Answer me, Myungsoo, come on–' And modesty aside, Myungsoo thinks he's doing a darn good job at reminding himself of the rules, running through it in his head every single minute – no unnecessary touching in public. Maintain a good distance between each other. No lingering looks and funny smiles. In bold and capital letters, don't fall in love.

Still, Myungsoo agrees to the arrangement. It's money saved, after all. That may be the only good thing about it. On the list of cons: they won't be able get to Ilsandong faster because they'll have to turn left from the Gangnam area so they can take Sunggyu home first. They have to be so conscious of the presence between them in the cab when they shuffle inside. Their bodies will be cramped in the small space, in the darkness. And Baekhyun's one touch, just one other body away. They don't really have a choice – they can only stay as far away from each other in Sunggyu's presence. They can't let their bodies align.

"Our ride's here," Baekhyun says, opening the door. He gets inside first then helps Sunggyu climb in. Myungsoo goes last, but he doesn't miss Baekhyun's gaze, the unspoken message in the way Baekhyun licks his lips when Sunggyu accidentally punches Myungsoo in the face while stretching his arms. Myungsoo seethes at the contact, but doesn't look away just yet. He locks the door behind him and slips in his seat, body still facing Baekhyun.

Sunggyu gives his address to the driver, then tells him that, "These two are getting down at Ilsandong." The driver nods in understanding then drives off, Ganganm disappearing behind them in a blur.

The streets are blessedly rid of heavy traffic at this hour. They get to Sunggyu's place in thirty minutes, and Baekhyun gets off with Sunggyu to make sure Sunggyu gets to his flat without falling asleep on the stairs. Myungsoo waits in silence in the cab, drumming his fingers on his thigh. In a few minutes, he'll be alone with Baekhyun again and– And who knows what might happen? They're in an enclosed space. They're alone. They're in the dark. And Baekhyun gets a lot of ideas, both good and bad, in the dark. Once, Baekhyun leaned his head on Myungsoo's shoulder and just hummed a small tune, his lips pressed to Myungsoo's neck. And then another: he played with Myungsoo's fingers the whole time they were on the road, still inebriated and maybe a bit too willing.

He told Baekhyun off that time, saying, "I'm ticklish. Don't– Stop doing that–" But Baekhyun wouldn't let go, wouldn't let him breathe. Baekhyun was stubborn in the dark as he was in broad daylight. And Myungsoo was weak in all the right places, at the right time.

Baekhyun knocks on the door thrice before pulling it open. He slips inside, his hand finding a nice fit on Myungsoo's thigh, then shuts the door behind him. Then he gives the driver his address and turns to Myungsoo with a small, shy smile.

Trouble, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind registers. Myungsoo's no stranger to this, the lazy patterns Baekhyun is doodling on his thigh, the tiny bubbles of laughter dancing on Baekhyun's lips. And he's no stranger to the way his stomach lurches, either, alcohol making everything that aches in his body burn even more.

"So. It's just you and me now," Baekhyun whispers.

Myungsoo gulps hard. That's the problem, he wants to say. They're the only ones in this cab. Baekhyun is smiling that bright, charming smile of his. _Disarming._ And Myungsoo's too sick in the head to fight the pull of gravity, the pull of Baekhyun's smile.

He leans forward, resting his forehead on Baekhyun's own. "Just you and me," he echoes. In a smaller voice, he says, "That's not how things are supposed to be."

Baekhyun looks up, humming, but it's too dark where they are for Myungsoo to see the finer details of Baekhyun's face. He has the shape of Baekhyun's face, the quirk of his mouth, the shift of his muscles memorized, but there might be things that he's missing with the shadows wrapping things up in a thick dark blanket. So Myungsoo doesn't say anything else, doesn't do _anything,_ and just lets Baekhyun fall asleep on his shoulder. The fatigue in his muscles is a reminder – that it's past midnight and people nearing their thirties shouldn't be drinking this much anymore, that Baekhyun's slumped against him, lips pressed to expanse of skin where Myungsoo used to have his scarf. That this is real and he isn't imagining things, because the way that Baekhyun's hot breath prickles his skin and makes his insides turn leaves scars far too deep for him to ignore.

"Straight ahead," he tells the driver when the driver slows down near a curb. He's walking straight into a disaster and he knows it. And he's looking forward to the prize at the end of the road.

ミ☆

He receives a text message from Sunggyu the following day, just a few minutes shy of seven in the morning. _thanks for dropping me off. or at least i think you dropped me off last night,_ the first message says. The second, _and i'm sorry about that… thing. but thank you. for understanding. i trust you to remember our conversation._

Myungsoo stops toweling dry his hair as he reads those two messages again and again, going through each word until the message sinks in. His appointment with another client by the name of Lee Sungyeol at Gangnam isn't until eleven in the morning, after all. There's enough time to read both messages carefully until he can recite them under his breath. But he has a 9 a.m. coffee run with Baekhyun. And it's still too early to be processing serious texts, especially with alcohol still sloshing around in his head. So he takes a deep breath, then takes his phone in his hands from where he'd put it down on his bed. Years of friendship are enough to let him know that Sunggyu's waiting for a reply. He doesn't need to think that one through.

 _we're cool,_ Myungsoo types. His thumb hovers the send button for a while, then he adds, _i promise to be a good boy._

It sounds like such a silly text especially coming from someone his age, but Sunggyu responds with a smiley. Then a couple of stickers that make no sense but ease the knot of tension in Myungsoo's chest, anyway. Sunggyu says nothing else, nothing beyond those choppy sentences of his, choosing instead to speak through visuals. But that, in itself, is the message – Sunggyu's expecting him to make all the right calls, the right decisions. Sunggyu's expecting him to remember that whatever he does _with Baekhyun_ will affect Baekhyun's budding career. Sunggyu's banking on years of knowing Myungsoo to be assured that he won't screw things up. And Myungsoo's expecting himself to not let Sunggyu down because he's always kept his promises. He's always gone for the safe shots. He's a good guy.

 _running a bit late :( c u tho i'll fly there and b there by 9!!,_ comes Baekhyun's text. Myungsoo shuts his eyes tight, laughs to himself. There's just one thing.

 _c u,_ is all he replies with, then he's plugging his phone to his charger to stock up on battery before he leaves. In ten minutes, he'll be on the next bus to Gangnam and sipping coffee with Baekhyun to start his day right. After that, he'll be meeting up with Sungyeol to iron out the details of their project. In the afternoon, he'll be hiding in a coffee shop to get his freelance work done because he'll be in SM the whole evening until the whee hours of the morning. This is the routine he's found himself falling into, a routine that Baekhyun has made him ease into only in the span of a few months.

This is a change of image. This is him wearing an entirely different second skin, one he might have already worn years ago – a skin clothed in shadows and the warmth of Baekhyun's touch. Trouble, trouble, _trouble._

ミ☆

"You really didn't have to have it delivered."

Myungsoo bows to the delivery man before handing the signed receipt in exchange for the package. He's been spending more time indoors these days, leaving his flat only in the evening to catch Baekhyun's last few practice sessions. The box isn't that big, about the size of a bond paper except three-dimensional, that he can tuck it under his arm without overextending himself. He could've picked it up from Sungjong's new office, but Sungjong had insisted to call it a present. 'And the one you're gifting the present to shouldn't be traveling all these miles just to get his gift, right?' Sungjong had even said. It's not a present, though. It's a collection of negatives that Sungjong had kept from when they were still with Red Balloon. They're negatives of pictures that never made the final cut in print ads, photographs that look more raw than those people see in advertisements. And they're exactly the type of photos that Myungsoo wants people to see in his spring exhibit with Howon.

"I had it delivered express. Didn't want to get molds on the slides. You know how fragile those are," Sungjong says on the other end of the call.

"I'm sure they arrived in perfect condition. I'll just–" Myungsoo kicks the door shut behind him and brings the box to the living room. "I'll check them one by one later–"

"Open the box now, for my peace of mind. Just gloss over them to see if they're okay."

"Jong, relax. You sent the package yesterday afternoon in exchange for the designs you made made me do–"

"Pro bono," Sungjong interrupts, drawling the syllables as if it will make a difference. It won't. "Come on, just open it–"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. The sooner he gets to checking these, the sooner Sungjong will let him drop the line. The sooner he can do other things on his phone, like replying to the five messages Baekhyun had sent him before Sungjong called him on his line. "Fine. I'll get right to it. I'm getting a cutter _right_ now and–"

The line breaks up a little. Sungjong's silence has good timing. "Good. Let me know what you see once you open the flaps."

"I'll give you a running commentary," Myungsoo replies, voice dropping low and thick. He scores a line though the packing tape with the blade, then, and says, "First up, I'm seeing–"

Several boxes of slides labelled properly. The labels are simple written characters on plain masking tape, but with a special touch. Sungjong has labeled those related to work with a frowning face, and those that they've probably taken during downtime with a star. At first glance, Myungsoo can already see familiar project names – Project Spiral for the McDonald's Twister Fries campaign, Project Unicorn for the Bambi Kimchi advertisement. Project Park for, well, Park Yoochun's Starbucks advertisement. Then two to three boxes marked with a star and the text 'Project Ultima (Genesis Coupe)' in big, bold characters.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He clenches his fists. "I didn't handle Ultima, Jong." A loud, shaky exhale through his nose, then, "You _do_ know that, right?"

On the other end of the line, Sungjong laughs a little. He probably means well, but everyone knows that Myungsoo made sure not to come close to any of the Ultima materials. Conflict of interest, he'd always say, because he also handled Park Jungsoo's Rolls-Royce advertisements. Everyone bought the excuse. No one bothered him about it. Only a handful of people knew the real reason behind pointedly avoiding the project – it was Woohyun's first endorsement following getting recruited by SM, the first time that he was seeing Woohyun after graduation. And he was doing so well controlling his emotions that time that he didn't want to put all his efforts to waste.

"Those slides are safe," Sungjong says. He clears his throat. "They... They're just photos that we took of the car. Remember when the three of us played around with the Genesis Hyundai sent us to take photos of? You, Hoya, and I, the golden trio? Those are the only photos there. I swear I double-checked before sending the slides to you."

Myungsoo lets out a long exhale. "Did you, really? Because I know how long you guys have been trying to get Woohyun in touch with me."

"Valid concern, but–" More static. The line's chopping up again. Winter's out to fuck up communication lines during the last two weeks of the season. It's the most cruel season for a good reason. "Realistically, even if I _was_ feeling too sad and sorry for the poor guy because he's been asking all your common friends how to contact you, I'm still more afraid of what you might do to me if I ever tried to send you Woohyun-related things. The fear is still more powerful than the pity."

"But these slides are 'Woohyun-related'."

"I _mean_ –" Sungjong grumbles. "Stop being difficult, alright? It's been years, Soo. Your old _whatever_ with that Woohyun guy ended even before we met in Red Balloon. That's more than half a decade ago. If you keep holding onto grudges from the past then you'll never be truly happy."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and slumps in his chair. The wall clock reads ten in the morning. It's not too early for conversations like these, but at the same time it feels like it without alcohol to numb his senses, to ease the dull ache in his chest. It _has_ been years, five years and then some, since the whole ordeal happened. Woohyun dropped the bomb and told him that he just saw Myungsoo as a friend. ("Right. Because friends fuck each other at the very back of the library or in every closed space. Of course, Woohyun, we're just _friends._ ") That he, in fact, liked girls. ("You like how she takes care of you, Woohyun. You like her because she's always understands even if she's already at the brink of kicking you in the balls. If you had some, at least." " _What?_ " "Treat her with respect." "I _am_ treating her with respect." "Then it's not enough.") That he wasn't going to take any of the bullshit Myungsoo was telling him because he knows he's not the asshole Myungsoo is saying that he is. In the end, Myungsoo never got to say his spiel past the, "You're too full of yourself. What about other people? What about your _friends?_ " Then Woohyun huffed, turned his heel to leave. Myungsoo made sure to never come across Woohyun again, made sure to erase Woohyun from his life.

There are still traces of Woohyun in his life, peppered on his skin and across his chest. He's like an itch that's hard to ignore, a dull ache that's hard to get rid off. There will always be the ghost of Woohyun haunting him, a small, small voice at the back of his mind, saying, 'You'll never be able to escape. These scars will be with you until the very end. There _is_ no escaping Woohyun, Kim Myungsoo, and he's a fever you have to learn to live with.'

He takes a deep breath. On the other end of the line, he hears Sungjong saying, "Are you okay? You alright there? Hey, Myungsoo, I'm sorry–"

"It's okay," Myungsoo answers after a while. He takes a deep breath then says, "Thanks for sending these over. I'll probably find something useful here for my current freelance project. I'll take you out for coffee once I get paid."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." For good will, to let Sungjong know that 'no hard feelings, man'. It's part of the drill. "It's fine, don't worry. It's been years. I'm better now. I can survive remembering things about him without having to break down every five minutes anymore."

"Silly kid," Sungjong says, laughing. A deep, shaky breath, then, "Alright, I've got to go. I... I'm working on Ultima 3.0. Just a heads up. Bye!"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes and ends the call. He stares at his phone for a good five seconds, then brings the box of slides to where his lightbox is.

When the Hyundai Genesis project was named 'Ultima', everyone was joking about it never ending. As long as Hyundai kept manufacturing the Genesis and reinventing it in the hope that it might outlast some of the more affordable cars in the same price range, there would be a Project Ultima. It made sense – the agency working on the project wouldn't need to think of a new project name. It had recall. It was easy to remember. _It fucking stuck._ Fast forward years later and it's still alive. And it has followed Sungjong to his new agency like a shadow that he can't ever get rid of.

The last time Myungsoo checked, Woohyun was still promoting the car. The last Genesis commercial he saw was for the new Coupe, two years ago. That was around the time that Woohyun made his 'comeback' with his second studio album. He was promoting alongside a certain J-Hyun, SM's most famous rock artist. Woohyun dominated music charts then, and soon he'd dominate commercial gaps with a slew of TV ads, all with his face plastered on them. Maybe that was what 'desensitized' Myungsoo to the concept of seeing Woohyun's face. Maybe it was what softened the blow and made it easier to forget most of the pain that recalling their past brought with it. His chest would constrict everytime he saw Woohyun's smile at the back of his eyes while he was applying moisturizer on his cheek, but that was it. No more clawing pain in his chest. No more throwing up whatever he'd eaten just minutes before. No more reaching for the first can of beer his hand can reach or whatever alcohol he had in his fridge. All the residual damage of the separation was focused on chest pains, a dry throat. Fingers growing cold and numb even as he clenched and unclenched and clenched his hands into fists again in an effort to restore the feeling in his fingers.

And like any nasty stain on white cloth, specks of memories with Woohyun remained in him, at the very back of his mind. Maybe it was muscle memory, his chest constricting at the thought of Woohyun's loud and obnoxious cackle. It was a habit so hard to break.

He opens the first box of slides now and lays them down on the glowing surface in neat rows. He's looking for a nice photo of a car that he can have digitized and saved in a flash drive. He's looking for something he can use in one of those freelance projects that Howon had given him. He's looking for something to help make his job easier, not for something to make his chest heavy and his throat feel dry. So he pulls up a familiar playlist, a live recording of a raw voice singing and belting out lines of songs that are just about to hit Korean radio stations nationwide.

ミ☆

The end of the season means the end of another production cycle. With the autumn and winter shoots now crossed off the list, they're down to the last two seasons to shoot in the next five months. There's enough time, given the speed at which the whole team works, but with the freelance projects stacking up on Myungsoo's desk, there's barely time to breathe. He's been in contact with Dongwoo, polishing the compre designs that Howon has already had approved for finalizing. He's also been taking some small side jobs from Sungjong that don't conflict with the brands that he's handling in Dongwoo's brand portfolio. Morning 'til noon, he devotes to his freelance work that pays thrice as much as his 8-to-whenever job when he was still with Red Balloon.

In the evening, he travels all the way to the Gangnam area to catch Baekhyun's practices and work out the details of the last two shoots with Sunggyu.

Baekhyun's practicing a new song today, something that Yoo Youngjin had given him just this afternoon. "Not sure if this will be for the next album or a single but I'm pretty sure it's a duet. I mean, the lyrics read like it," Baekhyun says, then waves the lyrics sheet in front of Myungsoo. Beside Myungsoo, Sunggyu looks up from where he's studying the music sheets. "It reads like two men fighting for one woman's love and affection."

"Oh wow. I thought SM only did 'painstakingly cute' and 'frighteningly mad', no in-betweens?" Myungsoo says. He leans closer, studying the lyrics. It sounds like a powerful piece that requires an equally powerful voice. Baekhyun shouldn't have much difficulty with it, though; he's been getting better everyday.

"They also do 'heartwrenchingly sad,'" Sunggyu mumbles. He holds the music sheet up beside the lyrics, then, drawing a line with his finger from one side of the paper to another. "They gave you the demo, right? Just study that first. Joonmyun will discuss the duet dynamics with you within the week, I'm pretty sure. Don't mind the breaks in the message first; just sing it as thought you're in conflict with your own feelings."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at Sunggyu. "That actually works, hyung," he whispers, nodding in thought. Then a small smile lights up his features, pulling up one corner of his lips. "Why didn't you become a singer? You have a great and distinct voice. You sing well."

"Not all 'good singers' are emotive singers," Sunggyu answers. Myungsoo looks to his side, meeting Sunggyu's gaze. Sunggyu's cheeks are stiff, the smile on his lips controlled. C'mon, hyung, don't fuck around with me now, he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he inches away, giving Sunggyu enough space to move around. And Sunggyu seems to get it, shifting in his seat now and placing his hands on either side of him. "And SM's looking only for the latter kind."

"He means he doesn't have enough guts to do the silly stuff you do on stage," Myungsoo says in summary. Sunggyu snorts, and soon the choked sound blooms into laughter. He digs his elbow into Myungsoo's side and twists it. Myungsoo groans and hits him right back. "Also, he's an even shittier dancer than you are so–"

Baekhyun's eyes widen. He gasps, loud and exaggerated. He scrunches his face in the ugliest surprised look ever, but even then he still looks a bit attractive with the way a silly grin pulls up at the corners of his mouth. "You– You're _worse_ than me in dancing? Hyung, you must be–"

"Shut up, you two!" Sunggyu slaps them both on the arm hard enough to sting for the next few seconds. Still, Myungsoo lets laughter get the better of him, the thick lump of _something_ in his throat dropping to the pit of his stomach when he meets Myungsoo's eyes and catches sight of his unguarded smile.

Practice stretches on for the next three hours, with Sunggyu telling Baekhyun to take a break at the stroke of the hour. Baekhyun shakes his head, though, telling Sunggyu that he's okay, he can still go on. "I just want to get this part right–" He furrows his eyebrows in concentration as he practices that one part, the same line, again and again until his voice breaks at the end of the second verse. "Goddamit. I almost–" Baekhyun huffs. "Okay. One last time, then I'm taking a water break." He looks over his shoulder, then searches for Myungsoo's gaze. "And you're coming with me."

It takes a while for Myungsoo to realize that he's the one Myungsoo's pertaining to. Or it takes longer to sink in, because he'd been paying attention just a few minutes ago before a text message from Howon came in. He's halfway through typing the dimensions on the canvas he'd used for one of the designs he made when Baekhyun repeats, "I said, _you're_ coming with me, Myungsoo," drawling the syllables of his name. So he looks up, meeting Baekhyun's focused gaze, the slight tilt of Sunggyu's head beside him not going unnoticed. "Yes, you, cute guy who's been glaring at his phone for the past two minutes."

 _Cute guy._ Sunggyu won't like that. Myungsoo cracks his neck and takes that as an opportunity to sneak a glance at Sunggyu. Sunggyu hasn't looked up yet, his eyes still fixed on the blur of colors on his screen. "I'm busy. Why don't you go out alone?"

"Because I'm getting us drinks from the vending machine and I can't hold them. Because they're cold." Baekhyun holds both his hands up in the air and wiggles his fingers. "Learned that from dance class. And _yes,_ the messy choreography I was doing earlier was a dance. _Shut up._ "

Myungsoo rolls his eyes in response, doesn't quite confirm his attendance. Instead, he shrugs and leans back against the wall, finishing his text in one quick sentence before locking his screen. His phone gives off a soft 'click'. Baekhyun smirks in acknowledgement.

"Banana uyuu, right, hyung? 3 dozens?" Baekhyun asks, turning to Sunggyu. Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him but doesn't speak yet, doesn't utter a word. There must be a silent conversation going on, because Baekhyun keeps twisting his mouth and biting the inside of his cheek, keeps swinging his arms in his sides in tandem with the heaving of his chest. And he keeps shifting his gaze from Sunggyu to Myungsoo and then back, like he's saying, 'If you two talked about weird stuff behind my back, I swear to God, hyung, I'm going to–'

"Don't be silly. Just two." Sunggyu rubs the tip of his nose. His lips are slowly curling up in a small smile again. The knot in Myungsoo's chest eases, tension lifting from his shoulders. "Two dozens. Soo?"

Baekhyun meets his gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkled a little. His lips are tugged up in a tight-lipped smile. "Fanta," Myungsoo says, croaking. He clears his throat a little to flush down the weird, tickling sensation inside him. "I mean, Fanta. The grape-flavored soda."

Baekhyun blinks several times then turns to Sunggyu. "He means Tempra, right? Is he trying to get me to buy cough syrup for myself?"

Sunggyu lets out a dramatic sigh, then turns to his side to look at Myungsoo. "Shit, Soo. He outed us."

Sunggyu probably means, nice save there, you two. But don't ever pull off shit like that in public or else I'll dismember you both.

Baekhyun finishes his 'last run' – and by that, Baekhyun actually means his last three runs of the same song because he just won't stop until he got it right – fifteen minutes after. Sunggyu walks over to where he is, drying Baekhyun's hair with a hand towel, and Baekhyun only groans in response but doesn't flinch away. Myungsoo laughs a little. This is the sort of dynamic that he and Sunggyu used to have back in college, back when Myungsoo needed guidance more than he did oxygen and water. Sunggyu would make sure Myungsoo got up on time so he wouldn't miss his classes, make sure Myungsoo didn't skip meals (or at least nibbled on crackers during snack time) despite the stress that school brought. And in turn, he'd try to make Sunggyu didn't panic at the first sign of trouble in their little photography club. He'd accompany Sunggyu whenever he could, spend time with him during breaks. All they ever did was sit in comfortable silence while going through readings, sometimes talk about photography projects and endeavors. Sunggyu never forced him to speak up, though. He was always patient enough to wait it out, wait for Myungsoo to open up and warm up to him all over again.

"Let's go?" Baekhyun says after a while, the hand towel peeking from his collar at the back. Sunggyu pats Baekhyun's shirt dry one last time. "Seriously, hyung, I'll get you a truckload of banana uyuu. You're being extra nice. Hang on. Are _you_ sick?"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at Sunggyu. It's just a tiny lift of the eyebrow, subtle enough that it's easy to miss. Sunggyu meets him head on, though, looking straight at him. This isn't Sunggyu being too nice, or Sunggyu getting bogged down by some virus. This is Sunggyu sticking close by, making sure that nothing funky happens. But nothing weird _has_ been happening, Myungsoo wants to say. They're just getting some drinks, not disappearing into the closest empty space and backing each other up against the wall. Baekhyun just needs some water, a drink, not a kiss. And Baekhyun's just looking for company, someone to help him carry all thirty-six packs of banana uyuu for Sunggyu's consumption.

Still, Myungsoo plays along, pressing the back of his hand to Sunggyu's forehead. "I think he's a bit sick in the head," he whispers, narrowing his eyes for effect. He takes a punch straight to the gut after that, with Sunggyu even twisting his loosely-balled fist in Myungsoo's shirt. " _Definitely_ sick in the head." 

Baekhyun lets out a dramatic sigh. "I knew we were bad for his health."

Not too far off, Myungsoo's almost tempted to say. He doesn't. Instead, he laughs and shakes his head, exaggerating his movements a bit just to make fun of Sunggyu. He earns a slap on the arm for that, a light kick to his calf. None of those hurt, but they do jolt him awake enough for the dregs of lethargy to spill from his hands as he turns the knob.

The door shuts closed behind them and Baekhyun slumps against the wall for a while. "The air here's better," he says, a bit breathy, then scoots closer to where Myungsoo is. "So much better."

Myungsoo swallows hard. Sunggyu's there in the room, on the other side of the wall. They're just feet away. And they're out here in the open, in a mostly empty hall where anyone can see them. Where anything can happen. If Baekhyun's courageous enough to take a blind leap of faith then he'd thread their fingers together here in this well-lit corridor. And if Myungsoo's foolish enough, unmindful of Sunggyu waiting for his banana uyuu just beyond the wall, he'd hold onto Baekhyun and just spend the next few minutes like that.

But they aren't. Baekhyun just keeps staring. And Myungsoo looks back at him, keeps his eyes locked onto Baekhyun's own and nothing else. Baekhyun's worrying his bottom lip too much, licking his lips, doing all sorts of things, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in Myungsoo to not let his gaze trail south.

"The drinks," Myungsoo whispers. He nudges Baekhyun a little.

Baekhyun traps his tongue between his lips. He looks like a kid who's been deprived of lollipop. Strawberry-flavored lollipop. His tongue is a duller shade of the pink of his pretty mouth. "Right. The drinks."

Myungsoo pushes himself away from the wall. Baekhyun chases after him, catching the tips of his fingers with his hand and not letting go until the reach the vending machine a few meters away. He'll regret this later, when his mind registers that Baekhyun's sweaty and sticky from practice, when he remembers that Baekhyun is an SM trainee, soon to be an idol. When he remembers that there are probably ten, twenty, a hundred invisible eyes watching them right now, boring holes at the back of their heads. So he pulls away as early as now, while Baekhyun's distracted with feeding won bills into the machine and not looking at him.

The hand Baekhyun is using to press buttons on the machine trembles a little. He doesn't tear his gaze from the machine, though, until it gives off a weird sound, until the first drink drops to the takeout port and the machine quiets down to low thrumming.

"I'll take it," Myungsoo says, reaching for the drink. Baekhyun crouches low. Their hands collide just near the window where hot meets cold. So they push the panel back, swinging it open, and hold onto the drink at the same time. Teamwork, Myungsoo says to himself as he wraps his fingers around the can of Fanta, as Baekhyun does the same and slots his fingers between Myungsoo's own. They stay like that for a few seconds, until the wave of cold reaches their arms, numbing their muscles, making them shiver. No one will see them here, and if anyone ever calls them out on it then they can just say they happened to attempt to get the drink at the same time. Got their hands stuck in a messy web in the takeout compartment. Held onto each other a little longer than necessary. Stuff like that happens. It has nothing to do with Baekhyun needing a bit of human warmth, a comforting touch. It has nothing to do with Myungsoo wanting the same thing, maybe even more than Baekhyun does. And it has nothing to do with the loud, heavy pulse in their palms, moving with each other in one steady beat, as if singing the same song.

ミ☆

Baekhyun finally calls it a night at eleven in the evening. There's a whole map on his back now where his shirt sticks to his skin, sweat drawing pools of islands on his white shirt. His hair's a mess, the tips clumped together in some weird fashion. And he's dipping his hand inside his shirt, wiping his front in a steady up and down motion. The CD he was using earlier is now in Sunggyu's hands, and Myungsoo has already taken possession of the music sheets. There are doodles on it that look a lot like notes, different symbols drawn beside the lyrics. The bridges are marked with arrows pointing up and down at certain parts. There are a few lines marked with asterisks, some with hearts. Myungsoo draws the sheet closer to himself, inspecting it. There's a note there that says, 'needs more emotions!!! don't close eyes accdg to myungsoo must make eye contact w audience!!!'

Myungsoo laughs to himself. Trust Baekhyun to write down reminders this way, as if conversing with himself. He does that all the time, when he's practicing his dance routine one step at a time, perfecting each twist and turn and pirouette. He does that when he screws things up, as well, telling himself, "Come on, Baek, you can do better. Seriously, dude, shape up. Don't half-ass your shit. You'll regret it in the future."

"Okay, I'm good," Baekhyun says, then uncaps his bottle of Gatorade. He throws that into the trash can beside the door as soon as he empties out the bottle, then turns the knob. "Same old arrangement?"

Sunggyu looks up from his phone and turns to look at Myungsoo. "Same old?"

'Same old' means Myungsoo and Baekhyun taking the same cab and Sunggyu taking another. It means Baekhyun sliding his hand up Myungsoo's thigh again and doing nothing else. It means Myungsoo counting down those precious minutes until he can breathe again and wash the sting of Baekhyun's warm touch away. It means having to stay under the spray longer than the usual, imagining how it would feel to have Baekhyun's arms around his waist, stripped down to just their bare skin, how it would feel to have Baekhyun's lips on his again.

He presses the 'stop' button in his mind. Rewinds to that time when Baekhyun was nothing more than Sunggyu's 'kid', a talent that SM had just decided to let debut in less than a year's time. Then he presses 'play' and wonders how it would have been if he hadn't gone to the bathroom that time, hadn't gone around to look for Baekhyun. Hadn't given in and just pushed Baekhyun away instead of closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of Baekhyun's lips pressed to a corner of his mouth.

'Same old' doesn't mean the past. It means a new routine he's developed with Baekhyun, _around_ Baekhyun.

Myungsoo holds Sunggyu's gaze. Is this still a test? C'mon, hyung, it's almost midnight, he wants to argue, but there's no point. Sunggyu will always be testing him in the same way that he'll always be a bit too paranoid about Baekhyun overextending himself. Sunggyu will always try to check if Myungsoo remembers their conversation, every single thing about it, the same way that he'll always make sure they get a cab before he does when he isn't off his face. It's too much, but it's warranted. Sunggyu's only concerned about Baekhyun and his career, after all. Of course he'll want the best for his kid. Of course he'll want to make sure Baekhyun doesn't get into 'trouble' with anyone, even a friend. So Myungsoo says, "If that's okay with you," instead of, 'It works. I don't see a reason why we should change it. Or maybe I do, but I'd rather not see it clearly.'

"Well, I'm not drunk and neither am I sleepy. I can drop off you two somewhere, though. Or–" Sunggyu scrunches his face. His twirls the keychain for his car key in one finger. "Ah, shit, subway's already closed." He takes a deep breath. "No choice, I guess. You'll have to take a cab."

More like, you'll have to take the road to hell. I trust you to wear seat belts. But in any case, be safe. Godspeed.

Myungsoo shrugs and replies, "It's fine. Thanks for offering, though." He steps outside the room and begins his journey to the elevators with the other two following closely behind. "We'll text you when we get home. I'll try not to forget."

"Or try not to fall asleep at once," Baekhyun says, nudging him in his side. Myungsoo narrows his eyes and nudges back in thoughtless retaliation. "What? You fell asleep on me while we were texting two nights ago and I was waiting for a reply and–"

And you didn't have to say that, Myungsoo wants to argue. Baekhyun didn't have to let Sunggyu know that they've been talking until the whee hours of the morning these past few weeks, that Myungsoo may be one of the reasons behind Baekhyun's worsening eyebags and fatigue at eight in the morning. But, then again, there's nothing to hide now, is there? All their conversations are about singing and performing and the cold weather. Bundling up in at least three layers of clothes to be able to move around comfortable. Enjoying coffee ("Real coffee, not your hot chocolate with a shot of espresso." "Shut up, non-believer. You'll learn to appreciate the wonders of hot chocolate someday. Maybe when–" "When what?" "Maybe if you tasted it off– No, never mind." "Yeah. Never mind.") in the morning before powering through the to-do list the following day. Seeing each other in the evening, with the promise of going home together and falling asleep on each other's shoulders in the cab burning brightly at the back of their eyelids.

"I thought the insomnia's long gone?" Sunggyu asks.

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow, then turns to his side to look at Baekhyun. "It comes and goes," Baekhyun answers, then digs his hands in his back pockets. His pace quickens, about two steps faster than the usual, and soon his elbows are bumping into Myungsoo's, sending a jolt of electricity up his arms, wrapping around his neck.

The trip down the lift is silent, the white noise broken only by the occasional beeping of Sunggyu's phone. It's an entirely different story when they get to the ground floor, though, all sorts of shouts and cheers coming from both the entrance and the direction of the back door. The fans are always overeager, too excited, but they're rarely this worked up to cause such loud noise. This isn't even a concert, unless some kind group of trainees decided to give the fans outside a show. Not impossible, though; SM is known to recruit kids who are so passionate about performing that they'd put on a show for anybody who asked, even for free. So Myungsoo cranes his neck, eager to see what the commotion is all about.

"Let's just exit through–" Sunggyu looks at either side of him. Both exits are blocked, but at least the crowd near the back door isn't as thick as the one in front. "Or you two can ride with me until we get to a place where you two can hail a cab. Cool?"

Baekhyun rubs the underside of his nose. The fatigue's wearing him down, his eyes now sullen. Or maybe he's just plain sleepy. Too much hard work does that to you sometimes, wears you down faster than the usual. He locks his arms behind his back. "Or you can pick us up from the back door? I don't think I can ride the lift again without throwing up. I kinda feel sick."

Sunggyu takes a deep breath. "You're dehydrated. I told you to drink more water."

"And I'll telling you now, hyung, an option is to just pick us up from the back." He winks, then lands a light jab to Sunggyu's arm. "Relax, hyung. I'll be okay. I just need to get a bit of fresh air."

"I'll take care of him," Myungsoo offers. He gives Sunggyu's arm a light squeeze. "Text me when you're on your way out so we won't have to wait outside for too long."

Sunggyu holds his gaze for a moment, then pulls away with a curt nod. "Alright," he says, then turns on his heel to leave. He looks over his shoulder just a few steps into his journey, though, and says, "There's a water bottle in your backpack, kid. Finish the whole thing. I'll check it once you hop on my car."

"What am I, eight?" Baekhyun groans.

"You might as well be," Sunggyu answers. His figure blurs behind the elevator doors, shadows crawling up his face and ridding him of his usual glow. Sunggyu looks three years older than he should be. He looks tired. He also looks worried and concerned. It's not a good look on him. He was born with a smiling face, not with fear written all over his features.

"Myungsoo, I'm counting on you–" Sunggyu says as a goodbye, then the doors shut closed. A dull thud punctuates Sunggyu's unfinished sentence, paves way for Baekhyun's loud exhale. And then there's a short bout of silence again, sort of like the noise has been flushed down the drain by an external force, the loud gushing of the wind. The doors at the front and back being locked.

"I'm not a kid," Baekhyun grumbles. He rummages through his bag, anyway, looking for the water bottle. It takes a while to dig into the contents, to wade through the chaos in Baekhyun's bag, but Myungsoo spots the pink bottle popping out of a corner and reaches for it at once.

"Definitely not a kid," he assures Baekhyun, then presses the bottle to Baekhyun's cheek. Baekhyun smiles a little, his weary eyes softening at the corners and his lips tugging up in response. "You just look like one."

Baekhyun looks around for an audience. They can't possibly be alone in this hallway, not when they're a the ground floor and there are at least a fifty people still roaming the building and walking down the corridors. But it's mostly silent. There's the growing sound of footsteps from a few feet away, but other than that it's just the two of them and Baekhyun's heavy breathing. Just him and Baekhyun and the soft rustling of Baekhyun's clothes when he shifts in his position and faces Myungsoo.

He rests a hand on Myungsoo's hip. Too familiar, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Too risky, he says in return, but only in his head. Baekhyun doesn't need to hear it anymore; he knows that. He's looking at either side of them from time to time and pulling Myungsoo closer but still keeping a decent distance between them. His feet are lined up, one in front of the other, and he's craning his neck again. And Myungsoo just keeps his eyes on the bridge of Baekhyun's nose, drinking up every ounce of self-control to keep his gaze from dropping to the giving bow of Baekhyun's mouth.

The footsteps stop. The last step echoes in the hall. Baekhyun pulls away and drops his hand to his side. The loss of warmth has Myungsoo craving – for a piece of Baekhyun, for less space between then, for time alone – but Baekhyun hasn't looked away yet. He can still see himself in Baekhyun's eyes, can still make out the small, knowing smile at the corners of Baekhyun's lips.

"Later," Baekhyun whispers, then slumps beside Myungsoo against the wall. Myungsoo exhales, long and loud, eyes falling shut and throws his head back against the flat surface. He shivers all over. "Later–"

"Myungsoo?" comes a familiar voice. Myungsoo gulps hard. He doesn't open his eyes yet. The footsteps grow even louder, draw closer, and Baekhyun's tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Hey, Myungsoo, I– I never thought I'd see you here."

He opens his eyes. He takes his sweet time, still unwilling to refocus his vision, to part with the darkness, still unwilling to be brought back to this moment. It was warm just a few seconds ago, in the silence he shared with Baekhyun, but now a thick blanket of cold drapes over him and makes his knees shake. His fingers are cold. His toes are, too. And his stomach is turning. It's not the same lurch that Baekhyun's heavy gaze brings, or the tiny tumble that his stomach makes when Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him as if he's _looking_ for a specific answer, but it does numb his limbs. It makes his throat go dry. It's strong enough to stun him for a few seconds, then knock back the air in his lungs with a violent pat on the back.

"Hey," he finally says in acknowledgement. He pushes himself off the wall and straightens up. "It's been a while, Woohyun."

Five years, to be exact. It's been five years since they've last been _this_ close, since he's last seen Woohyun, really seen him with ample lighting and hadn't run away at the first sign of Woohyun. He caught a glimpse of him in the exhibit months ago, but that was just a tuft of hair. It could've been anyone. It could've just been Myungsoo imagining things because he has the most insane fantasies sometimes. He's been told that. Woohyun told him that before – ' _Get real,_ Soo. I mean– Gay idols never make it big in the industry. If they find out that we're– That we had something going on then they might–' Deep, shaky breath, then, 'You do know that I've been dreaming about this all my life, right?'

"Five years," Woohyun whispers. He takes a step forward. Myungsoo matches it with a step to the side, inching further away from Woohyun. "I... went to your exhibit. Even saw Hoya. We... sort of did some catching up and he said you were away that time when I dropped by–"

He went to have lunch with Sunggyu in Gangnam that time. Met Baekhyun and talked with him for the very first time. Hadn't looked back ever since. He laughs a little, at himself, at the whole situation. Beside him, Baekhyun makes a weird gurgling sound at the back of his throat.

"Ah yeah, I think I went out to have lunch with hyung then."

Woohyun furrows his eyebrows. "Hyung? You mean Sunggyu? You two finally–"

Baekhyun slaps him in his side. Just with the back of his hand, nothing that hurts so much. It seems more like a knee-jerk reaction that anything else, more of reminder that Sunggyu's probably close to getting out of the parking lot, close to dialing Myungsoo's number to tell them to head to the back door. It stings a bit, though, with fatigue making Myungsoo more aware of the pain. He doesn't look to his side to address Baekhyun. "Sat down for lunch, yeah. It's been a while. I... haven't exactly been the best friend since I started working with Red Balloon."

Woohyun laughs a little. His nose does that funny twitch – _still_ does that weird action that always catches Myungsoo off-guard. "Ah, that crazy job of yours. I've heard nothing but bad things."

"I learned a lot when I was still in prod."

"I bet you did," Woohyun says. He nods, slow and deliberate, then meets Myungsoo's gaze. "Pretty sure you did."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. If there's something about Woohyun that he hates the most, it's Woohyun's ability to look at someone like nothing, no one else in this world matters. It starts with a twitch of the lip, a twist to the side, a peculiar kind of smile that is Woohyun's and no one else's. Then Woohyun narrows his eyes a little as if he's trying to make out the finer details of Myungsoo's face, like there's nothing else that he'd rather do at the moment but to study Myungsoo's features. And then he takes another step forward. He's reaching out, hands slowly inching closer to Myungsoo's–

And then Myungsoo's phone is buzzing in his pocket. And then his ringtone is blaring in the entire corridor, filling the long stretch of space with sound. And then he feels someone tug at the hem of his shirt, just a tiny jerk of his entire body that knocks back the air in his lungs.

"I have to take this," Myungsoo says. He takes a step back at the same time that Woohyun does. He feels something warm against his skin, then a familiar pair of hands on his waist. He sinks into the touch even before he can look over his shoulder. He knows this warmth. He's spent the past few months memorizing it, falling asleep in the cab to its embrace. He knows the voice saying 'pick it up', as well, knows whose lips are pressed to the shell of his ear even before his entire body can process this – Woohyun just twelve inches away, the steady buzzing in his pocket. Baekhyun reminding him to 'pick up the phone, Soo, or else hyung will sock us in the balls.'

He fishes for his phone in his pocket and presses the green call button. "Sorry. We're on our way there," he says as soon as he picks up. On the other end of the line, Sunggyu grunts in acknowledgement. To Woohyun, Myungsoo says, "Our ride's here."

He can hear Baekhyun's tiny laugh spilling from his lips. _Our ride._ Sunggyu's their savior for today. He makes a mental note to thank Sunggyu later. Beside him, Baekhyun says, "Sorry, we really have to leave now. Hyung's going to kill us if we take another minute to move."

Woohyun tilts his head a little, furrowing his eyebrows. He looks at Baekhyun from head to toe as if studying him, _assessing him._ It's impossible that they haven't met before. They work for the same company. They must have bumped into each other somehow, or maybe passed each other while moving from one practice session to another. Baekhyun can recite all the names of the trainees in alphabetical order if he wanted to. Maybe Woohyun can do that, too; his memory's impeccable. But with Woohyun's busy schedule and Baekhyun holing himself up in the practice rooms all the time, they probably missed each other far too many times. Maybe Woohyun turned his attention to the other side of the corridor a second too soon, or Baekhyun changed directions and went to the bathroom instead of grabbing a drink from the vending machine. It happens – just like there are forced pulling two people together, there are also forces that push them further away from each other.

"He means Sunggyu, right?" Woohyun says after a while. He looks at Baekhyun again, squinting his eyes a little. "Byun Baekhyun, SM's rising star?"

Baekhyun's eyes widen. His grip on Myungsoo's waist tightens, but relaxes when Myungsoo sneaks his hand atop Myungsoo's own. Baekhyun is still Baekhyun, despite his unfounded courage. He still gets a bit shocked when people call him SM's next star, still gets a bit starstruck when he's faced with SM's biggest stars. And his touch is still warm, still conscious of the press of their bodies, because soon Baekhyun's threading their fingers together in a light lock.

"That's me," Baekhyun says. He puffs out his chest. Myungsoo moves forward a little, pulling away, but Baekhyun doesn't let his hand go just yet. A few more seconds, then Baekhyun inches away, the string of their fingers finally falling loose. Then he extends his hand in Woohyun's direction, offers him his brightest, warmest smile. "And you're... Nam Woohyun. One of SM's biggest starts this decade. I look forward to working with you someday."

Don't fake it, Myungsoo wants to say, wants to pull up the corners of Baekhyun's lips because he looks weird with that tense smile of his. It's the type of smile that goes to the bank of rejected photos. It's unsettling. But he doesn't say a word. Instead, he steps to his side, moving away from Woohyun's perimeter and closer to the open space where they should be heading. He watches Woohyun with a careful gaze. There's a voice at the back of his head, saying, asking, demanding for _something_ from Woohyun, but he shushes that voice. Tells himself to shut up, Myungsoo. There's a conversation going on in front of him and he knows better than to interrupt. If there's something he's learned from Sunggyu, it's this: always be on your best behavior when you're around Baekhyun. Everything that he does will reflect on his friend, after all. Baekhyun's an idol. He shouldn't be the reason for Baekhyun's fall from grace.

Woohyun gives him a cursory glance, then reaches for Baekhyun's hand. He gives it a light squeeze but lets go quickly. He takes a few steps back, then, and digs his hands into his pockets. "You should get going," Woohyun says soon after, cocking his head in the direction of the exit. "Sunggyu's waiting."

Myungsoo nods. He gives Woohyun a curt bow, then answers, "Right. We'll be off."

Woohyun leans in, lips poised to say something, but soon he's jerking back and shutting his mouth again. Then he shakes his head and tells them to go, go on, leave before he changes his mind and reaches for Myungsoo's wrist so he can pull him close through the loud exhale he lets out. He doesn't say it but it's there in the way Woohyun hasn't looked elsewhere yet, in the fact that when Myungsoo looks over his shoulder just before they swing the doors open, he still catches Woohyun staring. Watching him leave. So Myungsoo presses on, closes the door behind him and slips inside Sunggyu's car as soon as he can. Here, in the darkness and silence of the enclosed space, he can breathe. Here, in the easy slide of Baekhyun's fingers between his, he can relax and not worry about the voices in his head getting the better of him. He listens for the tiny voice inside him, the one he's shushed from five years ago, and coaxes a small sound from it. He's saying something, like a prayer or a litany or lines upon lines of sentences he's long been wanting to say.

Woohyun's back. He's back. And Myungsoo's stomach is lurching again, the same old lurch that once screwed him up back in college and never quite left. And he hates himself for putting all his hard work to waste, all those years he's spent getting over whatever they didn't have and getting over himself just thrown out of the window to be carried away by the wind. It was supposed to end after graduation. He was supposed to start fresh in Red Balloon. Woohyun wasn't supposed to come waltzing back into the room with his knowing gaze and his soulful voice and his smile that has always been the key to making Myungsoo's knees go weak in a flash.

But what's done is done. And there's nothing Myungsoo can do about it. All he can do right now is to face his fears and _then_ flush them all out of his system until he can develop another skin thick enough that the ghosts of his past cannot permeate it.

"Itaewon?" Sunggyu asks. His hand is hovering the play button.

"No. Just–" He balls his hands into fists. He can feel the shift of Baekhyun's muscles beside him, can feel Baekhyun's pulse on his skin. "Take us to the station. Then we can take a cab home."

"Are you sure?"

Myungsoo gulps hard. "Dead sure," he answers, voice crisp and clear. Only his hands are shaking. Without another word, Sunggyu turns up the stereo and drives off.

Sunggyu drops them off near a convenience store and reminds them to text him the plate number of their cab. Baekhyun takes care of the standard goodbyes – a tight hug, an assurance that they won't disappear from the face of the Earth, a promise that they _will_ text him once they get a cab _and_ get home. Myungsoo risks a glance at Sunggyu, though, locking eyes with him for a few seconds and then dropping his gaze to his feet.

"Thanks," he whispers just loud enough for Sunggyu to hear. "For not asking. And for knowing." He digs his nails into his skin. "And for saving me."

Sunggyu chuckles. "Don't be silly. I just have perfect timing," he says, then says his goodbye. Soon, his car is disappearing around the block, the engine noise fading into the night. And all that's left with Myungsoo is his things and Baekhyun's presence beside him, warm and steady.

He looks to his side and at Baekhyun, then extends his hand. His fingers are still trembling.

Baekhyun threads their fingers together and tightens his grip. The pads of his fingers are just as cold, but his palm is warm. So Myungsoo pulls Baekhyun closer and slips their intertwined hands in his coat pocket, hoping that they can share a bit of warmth in this open street. There's no one to tell them off here, no light to illuminate their features, only the darkness of the night and the cool winds to keep them company.

Myungsoo gives Baekhyun's hand a gentle squeeze. Baekhyun turns to his side, leans in to press a soft kiss to Myungsoo's temple. He doesn't let go.


	4. Chapter 4

It's a series of mistakes today, Myungsoo muses as he unlocks his door and lets Baekhyun inside his flat. He'd insisted that he's fine, told Baekhyun that he'll survive, he can make it up the stairs without falling flat on his face. "I'm just tired. I won't do anything I regret, I swear," he even reasoned out, but Baekhyun only responded by holding up the plastic bag filled with chips and beer that they'd gotten from the convenience store. And Baekhyun was smiling one of his softer smiles, the one that went well with the usual tight knot of his eyebrows while practicing easing into a light lift. It was one of his favorite looks on Baekhyun, second only to Baekhyun losing it completely and cackling with reckless abandon. It was useless fighting back, so he gave up and let Baekhyun open the door of the cab for him. He paid for the fare, though, and was the one to text Sunggyu that _i'm home. with baekhyun. he insisted to get down at my place. i'll be a good boy._

_you bought drinks?_ is Sunggyu's reply. Myungsoo hesitates for a moment, thumbs hovering the screen, then types, _yeah. just beer. you know what happened earlier. i need this._

But you don't need Baekhyun there – maybe that's what Sunggyu will say in reply. It makes sense – he's always been at peace being alone. Silence helps him think, helps him recover. He spent the first twenty-four hours following Woohyun's departure in his room, the only light on his table lamp, debugging a tricky JavaScript code. But Sunggyu doesn't say it. Instead, he answers, _ok. his first vocal practice is at 11. make sure he gets to sm on time._

_i promise, hyung,_ Myungsoo types. As soon as the message goes through, he lays his phone face down on the table and washes the cans of beer in running water.

He finds Baekhyun looking around the living room when he resurfaces from the kitchen. He left Baekhyun at the couch earlier, rummaging through his mess of a bag, and now Baekhyun's near the shelves where he keeps his CD collection. The most extensive one is DBSK's, but there's no mistaking the still-wrapped CDs of 'NamWoo'. He tosses two bags of chips in Baekhyun's direction, then, just before Baekhyun can lean even close to squint at the text. Baekhyun manages to catch both with ease – the first with his hand and the second with his face. He scrunches his face at the impact, almost falls to the floor on his ass, but he's not as tired as Myungsoo had thought. He's still on his feet, pinching the tip of his nose as he refocuses his vision.

"Yum," Baekhyun mumbles in lieu of a complaint, and Myungsoo laughs. It's so natural, so spontaneous, delivered without much thought that it tickles him in the right places, knocks all the air he'd lost earlier back in his lungs. Baekhyun keeps at it, rubbing and pinching and blowing air at his nose, and Myungsoo just keeps shaking his head as he laughs. You're impossible, he wants to say. You make the impossible _possible._

"There, that's better," Baekhyun whispers after a while. Myungsoo's breath hitches, the laughter that was once spilling from his lips dissipating into silence. His pulse doesn't quicken yet, though, just beats steadily inside him in a rhythmic motion. His insides aren't turning and lurching. Then Baekhyun puts down the chips on the small table in front of the couch and makes his way to where Myungsoo is, taking slow and small steps. He stops when the tips of their toes bump, when Myungsoo jerks back and hits the wall with a low 'thud'.

Myungsoo drops his gaze from Baekhyun's face to his feet. His socks are bright green. There are tiny prints on it that he can't make out in the dim lighting. And he's wiggling his toes. Myungsoo laughs some more, just faint wisps of sound enough to pull Baekhyun even closer because what else is there to do? His words are eluding him. They've run away with Woohyun without any promise of returning. And Baekhyun's here, limbs doing the talking instead of his mouth. Maybe that's what he needs now, he muses – to use a language no one but the two of them can understand. To speak Baekhyun's language and to lean into Baekhyun's touch, to indulge in a sliver of warmth.

"Hyung got these for me a few months ago," Baekhyun begins, "When it was pretty much confirmed that I was getting the deal and–" He laughs a little. There's still the magic word for 'debut' at the back of his throat, startling all the sentences out of him in giggles. It's cute. It makes Myungsoo feel a bit warmer than he should. "Yeah. It was... one of those nice days. I finished practice early. Hyung took me out shopping because his sister wouldn't let him buy her things anymore. And–" Then Baekhyun groans, looking up at Myungsoo and pinching him in the stomach. "Hey, tonight isn't about me. It's about you. And I'm determined to get you drunk as fuck if that's what will make you smile again. C'mon give me a bright smile– Geez, what do I have to do to make you smile again, huh?"

Nothing, Myungsoo wants to say. This – the silence, the comfortable warmth, the short distance between them – is enough. So he shakes his head and lifts his gaze, meeting Baekhyun's eyes again. "It's okay. You don't have to do this. I'll wake up in the morning with a nasty headache–"

"And I'll be around to feed you seaweed soup," Baekhyun finishes. He rests his hands on Myungsoo's hips. This is familiar. If he circles his arms around Baekhyun and presses his lips to the underside of Baekhyun's jaw then _maybe–_ , maybe things can change. Maybe _he_ can change how things will unfold. Maybe– "Talk. I'll listen. I might fall asleep from time to time but I'll try my best to listen."

He gulps hard. He's just seen the ghost of his past an hour ago. It's not fair to purge the bad spirits with Baekhyun. He allows himself to drop his hand to Baekhyun's waist, though, allows himself to move even closer, close enough that he can feel the heat of Baekhyun's body seep into his skin. He keeps his eyes on Baekhyun's collarbones, keeps his wild, wicked thoughts to himself. "You need to get some rest. Hyung will kill me if I keep you up."

"So we'll set an alarm and wake up early, grab some yummy breakfast somewhere if you don't trust me to cook seaweed soup for you."

It's not that, Myungsoo wants to say. It's just that I don't trust _myself_ to wake up and not feel something different inside me, for you.

"What if we oversleep?" Myungsoo says, then. He takes a deep breath. Baekhyun still smells like sweat and snow and a thousand bad decisions. "I do that sometimes, knock my alarm out and–"

"We won't," Baekhyun assures him. Baekhyun traces the curve of his cheek with his fingers and gives his chin a light pinch. Myungsoo looks up at that, pinches Baekhyun in the stomach this time hard enough to earn a low groan. "Wow, feisty. I think you need some beer to, y'know, calm the beast inside you or something. Are they cold now?"

Not cold enough to withstand Baekhyun's warmth. Nothing's ever too cold for that. Myungsoo nods and excuses himself to grab them a can each. Baekhyun keeps his eyes on him the whole time.

They end up sitting cross-legged on the floor, their backs rested against the foot of the couch and Baekhyun's hand atop Myungsoo's own. Baekhyun plays with Myungsoo's fingers as Myungsoo talks about the past, about _Woohyun_ and what they would've had. They're only a beer each into their drinking session yet Baekhyun already feels too hot and the slide of their palms against each other is sticky. Messy. There are crumbs of chips on the floor and at the corners of Baekhyun's mouth but Baekhyun doesn't pause to flick them off, doesn't stop running his thumb along the length of Myungsoo's fingers as if he's committing every bump, every tiny detail to memory. As if he's trying to slow down time for both of them so they can catch up with each other, catch their breaths again.

"Thinking about it, there's nothing much to be said about the– See, it wasn't really a thing? We knew we liked each other but we never... said anything about it. Out loud. We–" Spoke with our bodies. It sounds so cliche and schmoopy in his head, but that's how it is. Their limbs knew their feelings better than their minds did. It took a while for the rest of their system to catch up and, by then, Myungsoo was already in too deep. He couldn't load up film in his SLR without remembering how he and Woohyun would compete to load film the quickest. He couldn't adjust the exposure without feeling the ghost of Woohyun's warm breath on his nape, or Woohyun's smile on the other side of the lens. He couldn't dissociate his passion with Woohyun even if he fell in love with photography first. It was hard. No, it was _hell,_ but Woohyun made the flames of hell seem so nice, warm, and attractive. He made it seem like heaven.

"Spoke with your bodies?" Baekhyun continues. He snorts, chuckles. "Eew. That's gross. Sounds like something you'd hear in movies."

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. "Thanks. That's really comforting."

"It's... sweet, though," Baekhyun says, voice dropping to a whisper. He moves closer, his side pressed against Myungsoo's now. It's too warm. "And sad. And I think we need more beer."

Myungsoo laughs a little. He looks to his side, meeting Baekhyun's gaze. "Right. We do."

He raises their intertwined hands to hold the sealed can of beer and pops the tab open. Baekhyun takes it with his free hand, doesn't start drinking until Myungsoo has opened a can of his own. And they hold each other's gazes as their bring the cans closer to their lips, matching each other sip for sip, a hitch of the breath for a shaky exhale. It's almost like routine now – Myungsoo offers him more chips and drinks and Baekhyun takes just one chip, presses it to his lips but doesn't pop it in his mouth until Myungsoo takes a chip of his own. Baekhyun nudges him in his side and he continues in his narration because that's the only currency he can offer Baekhyun as payment for his precious time. Baekhyun nods, slow and thoughtful, and Myungsoo digs deeper into the story, trying to find something that he could at least latch onto, something that can validate all those years he's spent 'mourning' over the loss of a love that could have been wonderful. But there's nothing. All he has are memories of Woohyun's touches, of Woohyun's sweet smiles. All he has are the rubble of their 'relationship' deep inside him, waiting to be swept away and disposed for good. All he has is... a blank canvas now. He has his dirty hands to paint a picture with, to create something beautiful out of all those bad experiences that have left nasty scars on his palms.

"He's an asshole," Baekhyun says after a while. He takes a long swig of his beer, emptying it out in one big gulp. "I mean I'm sorry but– It was obvious that he liked you. Or loved you but... don't quote me on that. It was so obvious but he just... couldn't admit it to himself? Or maybe he could, but he was afraid? I dunno, Soo, I don't know this Woohyun guy of yours. All I know is that he's, well, _fine_ , he's talented and good-looking but _damn,_ he's awful."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "C'mon, don't hold back. You called him an asshole earlier. Surely, you can do better that."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. "Asswipe, then? Shitface?"

Myungsoo lets loose the ugliest snort ever and Baekhyun's eyes widen as he chuckles. He takes a deep breath, then, and says, in a faint voice, " _Voldemort._ "

Baekhyun's eyes widen even more, and then he's losing it, face falling forward with so much force that he hits his knee and groans. And then he's erupting into a lovely peal of laughter again, completely unlike the way he sings with all the measured notes. He sounds so raw, so _free_ , so unbound by the restrictions of singing. He's just having a great time. He throws his head back, then, a dull patch of red on his forehead, and _shit._ Myungsoo's chest constricts. There it is – Baekhyun's lips falling open, the corners of his mouth tugging up as a grin conquers his lips. The corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs even harder, as beads of tears begin to glisten and catch on his lashes. His chest heaving, tiny jumps that soon even out into long leaps as he tries to catch his breath. Myungsoo losing all the feeling in his fingers when Baekhyun opens his eyes and looks at him, smiles his sweetest, most unguarded smile.

"Voldemort," Baekhyun croaks out, then cackles. His entire face is scrunched up in the weirdest, ugliest face Myungsoo has ever seen, but it still makes his stomach lurch. It's a nice lurch, though, the type that sends a warm sizzle to his abdomen and lifts the tension in his muscles. Baekhyun's laughter is like a warm quilt draped on his shoulders; his smile, a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a room for so long. And Baekhyun is beautiful even if he's caught between laughing and wheezing and just _breathing again_. Baekhyun is _beautiful_ in ways that Myungsoo can't even capture in a photograph.

Snap – Baekhyun meets his gaze and tilts his head as if asking, _what_ , there's nothing wrong with laughing so hard, is there? Come on, don't judge. Snap – he shakes his head and Baekhyun juts out his bottom lip, then sticks out his tongue. He's just started waving the white flag; this is a losing battle. Snap – Baekhyun leans closer, untangling the link of their hands, then cups Myungsoo's cheeks with them. He presses down at the corners of Myungsoo's lips with his thumbs, gives them a light rub. Myungsoo can feel Baekhyun's pulse on his skin, can feel them tapping a beat on the swell of his bottom lip. "Smile. For me. Please?" Baekhyun says, voice so soft he could have been whispering. But he isn't. Myungsoo can feel Baekhyun's words on his skin, can feel the vibrations of Baekhyun's voice where Baekhyun's holding him so close. So he nods and leans into the touch, letting Baekhyun pulling up at the corners of his mouth.

Baekhyun inches even closer until their foreheads bump, until the tips of their noses touch. Myungsoo takes a deep breath. There's alcohol and sweat and the scent of something sweet in Baekhyun's breath. They've been eating nothing but salty chips the whole time. So maybe Baekhyun is sweet, _does_ taste like chocolate. If Myungsoo wants to find out then all he has to do is to move even closer, to lean in, until he can feel the warmth of Baekhyun's lips on his.

Not fair, a voice at the back of his mind says. He's tired, drained, vulnerable. Radioactive. He's a ticking time bomb and Baekhyun's just seconds away from either getting himself blown up or detonating Myungsoo. Baekhyun's just a breath away.

"Don't you ever frown again," Baekhyun whispers. He chuckles and tilts his head to the side. Too close, Myungsoo wants to say. Too comfortable. It almost feels like home. But he doesn't push Baekhyun away. "Never _ever_ frown again–"

"I can't," Myungsoo blurts out. Baekhyun jerks back a little, but he can still feel Baekhyun's breath hot on his skin, the sensitive flesh of his lips. He grabs a fistful of Baekhyun's shirt and tugs him closer, then, just enough to put them back where they once were – just a touch, a hitch of the breath away. He counts to three, as if counting down to pressing the shutter release. All he needs it to get the right angle and– "I can't do this. Not right now. I mean–" I just saw Woohyun earlier and he broke me down to pieces and I can't give you that. It's not fair. I can't give you pieces of me in a trash bag. You deserve more than that. "I'm... _trash_ right now. You wouldn't want that, right? Someone who's so broken it's almost hard to put the pieces back together?"

Baekhyun hums a little. "I'm good at solving puzzles. I like challenges." A deep breath, then, "I... like you."

"It's not fair to you," Myungsoo reasons out. Baekhyun hasn't stopped humming, though, like he's saying, I'm not giving up just yet. Remember when I told you that I've made it my mission to make you smile for good? Yeah, I've got my sights set on that. _I'm not giving up on you._ "You have enough shit to deal with as it is, Baekhyun. You're an SM idol. You're a star. You're debuting in a few months and soon you won't have time to... I don't know, enjoy life and just be free and–"

Baekhyun shakes his head and places a finger on Myungsoo's lips. It's hard to look into his eyes, what with the very short distance between them, but he can make out the small smile on Baekhyun's lips. His lips aren't trembling. And his pulse is steady, rhythmic. His finger is warm on Myungsoo's skin. "You have no right," he begins, pausing to clear his throat before continuing, "To tell me what I want and what I don't. Or what I should and shouldn't be doing. I'm... a big boy now. I can make my own decisions. And right now, I want to stay here. Make you smile. Or maybe kiss you, if you'd let me. But if you want to get rid of me then it's going to take more than that."

Don't make promises you can't keep, Byun Baekhyun, Myungsoo wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he laughs a little and says, "A big boy, huh?"

Baekhyun winks. Or at least that's what it feels like, the tiny twitch that pricks Myungsoo's skin when Baekhyun leans even closer. There's still enough distance between them, though, that if Myungsoo wanted to push Baekhyun away moments ago then he already would have. And it would have been so easy to just pull away, put some distance between them if it was someone else but this is Baekhyun. Baekhyun whose smile tickles his insides and sets his heart at ease and makes his chest bloom with warmth. Baekhyun whose greetings are loaded with a thousand other words that may not make sense but make Myungsoo smiles. Baekhyun who only threads their fingers together and hovers but never leans in for a kiss, who jerks back at the slightest tremble of Myungsoo's fingers in the link of their hands.

Baekhyun who's asking him, right now, "Will you let me distract you? I... want you to think of this carefully because once you say yes, I'm telling you, I will do _everything_ to keep your mind off of... things."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He goes back to that argument a few minutes ago – it's not fair. He's broken. He's got to patch himself up first. Put himself back together and maybe fill the missing pieces with new experiences or just good ol' glue. But then here Baekhyun is, offering him all sorts of adhesives and sticky tape and his heart, to boot. Here Baekhyun is, giving him a choice, asking if it's okay to lean closer, to let their lips brush. Asking if Myungsoo could make space in the heart he's reconstructing so Baekhyun can build himself a home there.

And if he wanted Baekhyun out of his life sooner then he would've pushed him away the second Baekhyun snuck a kiss to the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth months ago. He would've pushed Baekhyun away even before Baekhyun could reach out to slip his fingers between Myungsoo's own, would have pulled away even before he could feel the warm and comfortable slide of their palms. And he would've said 'no' so easily the moment the question slipped Baekhyun's lips, would've turned Baekhyun down in a voice so bright and clear that he won't even be able to recognize himself.

"I'm not promising _anything–_ "

"It's a yes or no question, Soo," Baekhyun whispers. He laughs a little. "I can take it. Hit me."

Myungsoo closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. "Yes," he says, so soft it almost feels like a sliver of air just passing between his lips. "Yes, you may."

Baekhyun snakes a hand up his nape. He shivers but leans into the touch, head falling back into the warm cushion of Baekhyun's palm. From this distance, he can see Baekhyun's smiling a little, can see Baekhyun's gaze fixed on the giving bow of his mouth. Then Baekhyun leans in, pressing his lips on Myungsoo's own. It feels nothing like Baekhyun's heated touches, the brush of their knuckles against each other when they walk side-by-side, the slide of Baekhyun's arm around his waist when Baekhyun pulled him away from Woohyun and closer to his chest. It feels soft, tentative, _uncertain._ His lips are trembling but his hands are steady. And his lips are chapped again, just tiny bumps of rough skin. And they're warm. They're wet and warm and Baekhyun's coaxing his mouth open, licking at the seam of his lips, the corners of his mouth, giving his bottom gentle lips. And he can feel the upward tug on the corners of Baekhyun's lips dipping, dropping to a frown.

Let go, he tells himself. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.

He parts his lips a little and takes a deep breath. It startles a small gasp out of Baekhyun and Myungsoo capitalizes on that, pulling Baekhyun closer and opening up all the way.

Baekhyun... kisses like a kid, messy and juvenile and without any semblance of a system. He sucks on Myungsoo's top lip, bottom lip, the corners of his mouth, licks the back of Myungsoo's teeth and bites a bit too hard on Myungsoo's lips when Myungsoo lets out a soft moan. And he uses his hands, fingers balling into a fist in Myungsoo's hair as he sinks to suck marks on the underside of Myungsoo's jaw, as he licks and blows hot air on Myungsoo's sensitive skin. Myungsoo shivers at the contact, shakes when Baekhyun sucks a bit too hard and leaves too little time for him to recalibrate. He can feel his pulse beat strongly at the back of his knees, his ears, can feel Baekhyun's pulse leave marks on his nape. He can't breathe, can't think, can't feel anything beyond the loud and heavy thumping in his chest, the fit of their bodies, the inelegant slide of their mouths. He can tell Baekhyun to stop now, he can push Baekhyun away, but too late – his body is speaking for him, making him whisper, "Focus," making him reach over to tilt Baekhyun's chin up.

He pulls Baekhyun onto his lap and kisses him harder. And Baekhyun moans into the open press of his mouth, sending a sizzle of heat to his abdomen and making his insides turn.

"You're an animal," Baekhyun tells him later, when he rests his head on Baekhyun's shoulder and buries his face in Baekhyun's warmth. His jaw still aches with Baekhyun's touch and his lips still miss Baekhyun's, so instead he laughs in response and wraps his arms around Baekhyun's waist, hoping that this is enough to let Baekhyun know how he feels.

ミ☆

He wakes up with a sore back and the feeling in his right arm all gone, crushed under Baekhyun's weight. More specifically, he wakes up to Baekhyun's loud snoring and his hot breath prickling his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his _skin._ Then he feels the weight on his arm and his legs. He drops his gaze south, to the tangle of their limbs, and laughs a little. They'd managed to throw out the trash and tidy up the living room, but somehow they managed to fall asleep while talking on the carpet.

He checks the wall clock and lets out a soft exhale. It's seven in the morning. There's enough time to freshen up and cook breakfast. There's enough time to just live the morning and breathe.

He doesn't get up until ten minutes after, though, after successfully prying himself from Baekhyun's grasp. Baekhyun had tried keeping him there, in the warm cocoon of his embrace, too many times, employing different techniques. He'd tightened his hold on Myungsoo and pulled him close until they were chest to back, until their bodies were trapped in a warm and sticky fit. He'd tucked his chin on Myungsoo's shoulder when it didn't work, shook his head and grumbled and _whined_ when Myungsoo tried even harder to wriggle free from Baekhyun's grasp. After a while, Baekhyun just said, flat out without any cheap tricks and frills, "Just stay. Let's sleep forever. Don't wanna get up," hot breath fanning across the slope of Myungsoo's neck. And it would have been easy to say no if he hadn't promised Sunggyu to get Baekhyun to SM before 11, if he hadn't promised to be a 'good boy' and a good friend.

He looks at Baekhyun on the floor now, curled up and bottom lip jutted out in a frown. "Traitor," Baekhyun mumbles, kicking Myungsoo's foot a little. Myungsoo pretends to wail in pain. He only succeeds in getting another kick from Baekhyun. Giving in, he leans in to place a soft kiss on Baekhyun's hair. Baekhyun looks up at him through sleepy eyes, a small smile curling up at the corners of his mouth.

Half past seven in the morning and he finally gets his thermo pot running. He'd boiled enough water for two cups of coffee and two more of hot chocolate, almost added another cup of water _just in case_ Baekhyun didn't like his hot chocolate too thick and creamy. He sets a pot filled with water halfway through on the stove, as well, and sets the flame on high. There shouldn't be any hangovers from both of them but they're twenty-eight, and people their age shouldn't be drinking five cans of beer topped off with two bottles of soju. The last time he did it was... well, just a few weeks ago, and even then he should've known better than to power through another bottle of soju. The cure that day: sleeping all the way until lunch time and sipping as much odeng broth as he could from the food cart two blocks away. Then diving back into bed after that and not getting up for the next few hours until he had to go to SM to watch Baekhyun's practice.

He laughs to himself. All his recent drinking exploits had something to do with Baekhyun. He'd never gotten too drunk to the point of throwing up, though. Baekhyun had a strange way of keeping him sober, keeping him hyperaware of everything that was happening around him. He was an antidote to alcohol, the cure to the nastiest hangover. Baekhyun _was_ alcohol, in himself; Myungsoo would rather get drunk with Baekhyun than any liquor he's every had.

There are small bubbles surfacing on the water now. He keeps the flame high, burning at a steady intensity. Soup shouldn't take too much time to make. All it takes is some sea weed, seasoning, and some fish cake. He still has some from the grocery shopping he's done a few days ago. He's armed for situations like this. It's almost as if he's seen it coming: running into Woohyun and having Baekhyun close by. Dropping by a convenience store and contemplating buying all the alcohol they had to offer but ending up with just ten cans of beer and some soju. Matching Baekhyun shot for shot, sip for sip, a smile for a smile. Then falling asleep with Baekhyun in his arms and waking up to the same addictive sight, the feeling of their shared warmth blooming in his chest and greeting him–

"Good morning," comes a voice from behind him. Then he feels a familiar pair of arms circle his waist, pull him closer and away from the stove. " _Why_ are we up early?"

"Because your favorite hyung asked me to get you to SM by 11," Myungsoo replies. The red light of the thermo pot turns off. The boiling inside comes to a low simmer. "And because there was someone calling you earlier. A... Kyungsoo, if I remember correctly? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Ah _shit,_ " Baekhyun groans, then buries his face in Myungsoo's hair. Don't do that, he wants to tell Baekhyun. They both haven't freshened up yet and they're sweaty and sticky and gross, after all, but Baekhyun doesn't seem to mind, just keeps taking deep breaths and makes his descent to nibble on Myungsoo's ear. "And yeah, a good friend. Same guy who drives me around. He'd be my mom if he was a few years older."

"And if he was a woman."

"Hey. Male pregnancy's totally a thing now," Baekhyun says, lips pressed to the back of Myungsoo's ear. Myungsoo chuckles, tilts his head back. Wrong move again, Kim, he tells himself as he feels Baekhyun lick the shell of his ear. Too many mistakes made at seven in the morning, only one man to make everything feel right. "Sunggyu-hyung would be an awful pregnant daddy, though. He'd get so emotional over the smallest things and he'd always be agitated and–"

And you should stop this, Myungsoo wants to say, but hadn't he given Baekhyun the go signal last night? Hadn't he said 'yes' to Baekhyun when he asked, voice just barely above a whisper, 'will you let me distract you'? Hadn't he let Baekhyun kiss every inch of his mouth? Hadn't he _kissed Baekhyun back?_ There's no sense in doing things half-heartedly. He reaches behind him, then, snaking his hand to Baekhyun's nape.

"And he'd tell you to report at 11, still," Myungsoo finishes, pulling away only to lean back against the counter and get a better look at Baekhyun. Baekhyun's cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink. His eyes are still laden with fatigue, but they crinkle a little at the corners. Myungsoo can't tell if it's the work of the slow-forming smile on his lips or Baekhyun just squinting at everything because it's ass-o-clock in the morning and too early to be making sense of things. "Because you promised to come in at that time and he's unforgiving of those who come in late."

Baekhyun pouts. Sticks out his tongue, too, and Myungsoo responds in kind with a soft kiss to the tip of Myungsoo's nose. The sly, upward tug on the corners of his lips softens into a tiny 'o' of his lips, blows his eyes wide and colors his cheeks a brighter color, an angry shade of red. There's no anger in Baekhyun's eyes, though, just Myungsoo's reflection and the sight of the stove beyond Myungsoo's shoulder. And the smile Myungsoo has been trying to choke back the moment surprise began to conquer Baekhyun's features, spilling for the corners of his mouth and pulling them up to a grin.

Fifteen to eight, though, Myungsoo reminds himself. They still have to freshen up. He has a promise to keep. So he tells Baekhyun, "Let me cook," and sinks even more to press a soft kiss to a corner of Baekhyun's lips. One last moment of surrender before he returns to his cooking duties. The last few seconds of respite before he turns around and the spell ends, blooming into a single reality: Baekhyun is an idol. There will be people watching him. When they step outside this building, into the streets and without the thin veil of privacy shielding them from everyone's view, they'll have to maintain a good six inches from each other. It's standard SM practice. And it's standard idol behavior to not hold another man's hand, to not smile at him too fondly that might be taken the wrong way.

"I wanted to–" Baekhyun chases after Myungsoo and catches his bottom lip between his own. "–cook for you."

"It's alright. This is the least I could do for–" Myungsoo takes a deep breath. "For everything–" The water's boiling now and he should probably add in the seaweed he'd soaked in water earlier but Baekhyun kisses like he means to steal all the feeling from Myungsoo's lips, means to leave traces of himself on the corners of Myungsoo's mouth until Myungsoo's jaw aches with want. And Baekhyun is warm and sweet. And maybe Myungsoo likes sweet things that come in the form of Byun Baekhyun. Later, he'll taste Baekhyun at the back of his teeth while drinking coffee and he'll _regret it._ Later, when he drinks coffee again in the afternoon, he won't be able to separate the sugar from coffee and Baekhyun from the warmth that the drink gives him. Soon, he'll look at a cup of black coffee and see Baekhyun's name on the surface in squiggly characters, floating and jumping out at him, telling him to lean closer, _come on, drink up the happiness, come closer–_

"I'm not asking for anything in return," Baekhyun whispers when he breaks away. This time, it's Myungsoo who chases after him, their lips in a messy lock and saliva at the corners of their mouth. "I just want you to never feel sad again."

Lies, Myungsoo wants to say. If Baekhyun didn't want anything in return then he wouldn't have kissed Myungsoo. If he didn't want anything to change save for the frown on Myungsoo's lips waning then he wouldn't have stepped inside Myungsoo's perimeter so he could hold Myungsoo close. And if Myungsoo didn't want the same thing the slightest bit, even with the dull ache of Woohyun's memory in his chest, he wouldn't have kissed back.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. They pull away with a dull 'pop'. "Feeling sad means never feeling hungry," he says this time, laughing just a little when he feels Baekhyun frown against his lips. " _Let me cook._ "

"I will _ruin_ your coffee," Baekhyun grumbles. It doesn't sound like a threat at all.

No need for that, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Baekhyun has already messed up his life in the strangest, best way possible. Fucking up his coffee shouldn't be worse.

Baekhyun doesn't touch his coffee, though, just rummages through the utensils for a teaspoon and diligently makes his own hot chocolate on the kitchen table. When Myungsoo turns off the stove, announcing that breakfast is ready, Baekhyun gets to setting the table. He lays down the placemats on the table and moves around Myungsoo kitchen with relative ease, like he's been here a thousand times before. He sets the utensils down on folded table napkins like an art, like he's dancing. Then he looks up at Myungsoo once he's done, peeking from his bangs. There's a shy smile on his lips, a subtle upward curl of the lip that's so easy to miss to anyone who's seeing Baekhyun for the first time.

But Myungsoo has spent months memorizing Baekhyun's features. He's spent months studying the shift of Baekhyun's muscles that he knows, just by the slightest quirk of Baekhyun's lips, what Baekhyun wants to say. A quick upward tug at the left corner of his lips means he doesn't believe a shit that the person who's talking to him is saying. One at the right means he's genuinely interested in whatever the person has to say. And his lips falling open into a small 'o', Baekhyun blowing a thin sheet of air between his slightly parted lips and then pressing them together again in a light pout means why can't I have you? Why can't I call you mine right here, right now?

'It's complicated' is Myungsoo's standard answer. The alternative one: I'm afraid. So not yet. Not now. But someday, someday soon, I will give you an answer.

"That smells good," Baekhyun says. He lets out a long exhale.

"Thanks," Myungsoo replies. He looks down at the clear soup, at the chunks of fish cakes floating on the surface. "I hope you like it."

Baekhyun stays quiet for the rest of the meal, looking up from what he's eating only to give Myungsoo a thumbs-up and a smile. Under the table, he links their ankles together, keeps Myungsoo in place and keeps him from standing even if they've already run out of water. They only have a few minutes left, after all – to pretend, to play in their tiny sandpit, a few minutes of respite before the shoot starts again. The director's calling Baekhyun's name and telling him to get into character, but Baekhyun's a pain in the ass. He's defiant. He's different. He's asking the director for more time, 'I need to practice more. I need time.' So Myungsoo stays in his place, swings the tangle of their ankles from side to side in a rhythm easy enough to coax the rest of his body to move to.

"I could eat this everyday," Baekhyun mumbles after a while, sipping the soup from his spoon in a loud slurp. Myungsoo laughs a little and takes a sip, closing his eyes as the warm liquid eases the tension in his throat.

It tastes like home.

ミ☆

"I saw Woohyun a few days ago, in the SM building," Myungsoo tells Howon one time. He lifts his cup of coffee close to his lips and takes a long, torturous sip. "We... talked. A bit."

Howon cocks an eyebrow at him and leans back. They're in one of the lesser known coffee shops in the Buam-dong area today, Club Espresso, and there aren't too many people around. It's ten in the morning, after all, smack in between morning and just a little before afternoon. They ran into a couple of students on their walk to the shop from the station. The office workers kept ordering take out and wouldn't stay for longer than five minutes. There are only five other people in the coffee shop. It's _quiet._ Quiet enough that when Howon snorts and frowns at him, he hears the tiny sound at the back of Howon's throat. Quiet enough that when his phone gives off a shrill chirping sound, Howon cocks an eyebrow at him even more.

"You changed it?" Howon asks.

He didn't. Baekhyun did, assigned himself a special tone so Myungsoo wouldn't miss messages and reply five hours after the topic has ceased to be relevant. "Yeah. Was beginning to get tired of the old tone. I kept missing important messages."

Howon laughs a little. "Important messages, huh?" he mumbles, scratching the surface of the wooden table. He taps a rhythm on it after a while, something familiar enough that Myungsoo finds himself bobbing his head lightly to the beat. "They're not from Woohyun, right?"

"Nah, definitely not." Myungsoo shakes his head. He wouldn't even talk to Woohyun if he didn't have to, if they weren't already in front of each other and really had no choice but to interact. He was doing Woohyun a favor – Woohyun's fans were just a few feet away from them then. If they saw their idol just staring at someone blankly or whatever expression in his face that Myungsoo didn't want to see, they'd start wondering what was up. They'd snap photos of the same expression. Then they'd build an issue around it. It's promotion done in bad taste but promotion, nonetheless. And SM would throw a fit if that happened, watch Woohyun like a hawk, not letting him off the hook until they felt assured that Woohyun wouldn't get into any hanky panky with anyone. "And when I saw Woohyun, we just greeted each other. Nothing big. Just your usual hi and hello."

"Because you were expecting more," Howon says, groaning. He rolls his eyes. "Seriously? After all these years?"

Myungsoo parts his lips, meaning to speak, but instead he just breathes in and lets out a long exhale. He wasn't expecting anything... or maybe that was exactly what he was hoping for. For him to not look forward to what Woohyun had to say. For him to not wonder, what would've Woohyun said if there was no one else around? What would he have done if Baekhyun wasn't there, if his fans weren't just beyond the glass doors, if his manager hadn't called him? What would he have done if Sunggyu hadn't told Myungsoo and Baekhyun to hurry up, there's no time, they had to go home? The possibilities were endless. And if Woohyun's still the same old Woohyun that Myungsoo knows then Woohyun probably would have used his hands to speak, used his mouth, his lips, his tongue but never utter a single word.

Woohyun knows how to sing other people's songs but not his own. He's good at that, relaying other people's messages to everyone. But once he drops the mic, he loses sense of his own words and resorts to speaking with his body, instead.

Myungsoo shakes his head. Takes another sip of his coffee and looks at the mostly empty cup. He should ask for a refill. Or maybe he can stop now; too much of anything is bad for anyone's health, even caffeine. "Nah, I don't–" He scratches the slope of his neck. Baekhyun does that, too, when he can't find the right words to say, like scouring the surface will help him decipher the characters scrawled on his skin. "I don't want a repeat of the past. It's not good. Torturous. It was hell."

Howon snorts. "You're a masochist."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "Not anymore."

"Oh?" Howon whispers, lips falling open until they're tugging up at the corners into an amused grin. To anyone, it would probably seem like an insult, but he knows Howon means well. Howon has seen him grow out of his awkward, post-college phase and into something a bit more comfortable, as if he was finally getting used to wearing his own skin. Howon was there when he first told a client to shut up because he didn't know what he was saying, was there to back him up when the same client caused a ruckus in the office. 'You know, sir, what you're requesting for doesn't make sense,' Myungsoo remembers Howon saying then. 'We followed the brief you gave us. You shut it down and made us do something off-target. And now you're saying that we should just bring back the old designs and improve on them but make them _better?_ Are you out of your mind?' The last sentence was the catch phrase of the season. Howon was then called Lee 'Crazy Ass Artist' Howon after that, after the client called him the same and growled at him in frustration. And Myungsoo was there, too, to give the client a soft smile and say, 'It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Kim.'

" _Not anymore,_ really?" Howon repeats now, leaning closer. His eyes are squinted but his eyebrows are not in a tight knot. "Well, well, well... I've got to say, that Baekhyun kid really _did_ do you well."

"He's not a kid," Myungsoo says in defense all at once. Howon's response is light laughter; Myungsoo counters with a kick to his leg under the table. "He's the same age as I am. He just looks young. Has the face of a baby." An idol, a star. Eyes always glimmering with mischief and a thirst for singing, performing in front of a crowd. A shy smile that blooms into something big only when he's caught off-guard and when his feelings overwhelm him.

He feels for his phone in his pocket and fishes it out. Baekhyun's message bubble in Line jumps out at him as soon as he unlocks the screen. There's a 'good morning' message up top, then a series of stickers – a bunny waving her arms in the air, then a white blob who's pumping his fist in the air. The last is the same white blob doing a heart sign with his hands, winking. And then another message comes in, something that says, _aww fuck used d wrong sticker for the last 1 bah._

_u should smile like d white blob,_ Myungsoo types in haste. He looks up at Howon and narrows his eyes at Howon when the latter makes weird, kissy faces at him. _seriously it suits you, bright smile and all._

_i told u i took weird smiling like that remember?_

Myungsoo blinks a few times. "Go, you've been ignoring your phone for far too long already. Your boyfriend might be worried about you," Howon singsongs. He hasn't stopped smiling just yet, hasn't stopped making gurgling noises at Myungsoo. Myungsoo's never been more thankful that text messages are just visuals and nothing else, no ugly cooing and gushing from Howon. _i don't care. it looks good on u,_ he types after a while, once he's sure he's kicked Howon in the leg hard enough to make him shut up for the next few minutes.

_awww ur sweet :* well if u put it that way then i myt b convinced 2 do that ;)_

Myungsoo laughs a little. He can hear the lilt in Baekhyun's voice now, can imagine the violent upward tug on the corners of Baekhyun's mouth that Baekhyun tries so hard to wipe off his face. He can imagine the way Baekhyun's eyes always soften just before he erupts into a peal of laughter and they way his eyes turn into slits once he's completely relinquished control over his giggles. And he can imagine the way Baekhyun would rest his forehead on Myungsoo's own, his breath, hot and wet, tickling Myungsoo's skin. If there aren't people around them then maybe they'd give in to the urge to move even closer until their lips find a perfect fit. But if there are then they'd just be contented with this for now, seeing each other laugh their heart out in broad daylight.

They'll always have the night. They are creatures of darkness, each other's phantom limb. They tiptoe on each other's shadows and play until the light comes looking for them. And when it does, the shadows slither back up to the tips of their fingers where their bodies meet in the light brush of their hands.

"You're grinning," Howon points out. He nods and gestures at Myungsoo with his pursed lips. "Just a few minutes ago, you were Sir Serious and now you're this giggly guy who can't stop laughing everytime he looks at his phone. You've changed, man. You've _changed._ "

His thumbs hover the screen. He looks up at Howon, head tilted to the side. A change in perspective always helps – he can see Howon's smile better from this angle, can see the hint of amusement _and curiosity_ in the way Howon leans in, bit by bit, like he's counting the spaces between them with each forward motion. It would've been easy to just tell Howon that he's wrong, nothing has changed, nothing is _supposed_ to change, but there's no point in denying anything. And he doesn't want to just forget all the hard work he's poured into getting back on track, leaving the ruins of his past behind. He left his 8-to-whenever job months ago, hoping to live a better life, and he bumped right into Baekhyun. Baekhyun helped him get up, taught him how to fly. Everything went downhill from there, but it helps to know that there's someone going down the same rocky path with him, holding his hand and promising never to let him go, _you'll have to do more than that to get rid of me, Soo. I'm staying. But if you want me to leave then just let me know–_

"No, I haven't," Myungsoo says, shaking his head. On his phone, he types quickly, _looking 4ward to it :)_ Baekhyun replies with a blushing sticker. It tickles his insides, makes him smile. "He just brought out the best in me."

ミ☆

Four months, Myungsoo muses as he writes the characters for 'spring shoot' and 'summer shoot' on their respective dates. They're doing the spring shoot next week and blocking off the entire week after that for post-production. The week after, they'll be doing summer shots with the sun up high but the heat not punishing them just yet. Summer isn't until a few more months, after all. They'll have to make do with the light and warmth that spring brings. And with that, the seasons concept finally comes to a close, all nine months of preparation and production coming down to Baekhyun's debut stage. They could've shot the last two 'seasons' earlier, but winter hadn't eased completely until just two days ago. The streets have finally been wiped clean of snow and the winds are kinder. The leaves are slowly gaining color again. Everything is being reborn. It's almost therapeutic, watching spring unfold in front of him and melt away winter. In some ways, it reminds him of Baekhyun – how Baekhyun coaxed him out of the bad place he was in, how Baekhyun, with his bright eyes and even brighter smile, lured him out of the darkness and into the light.

The wind blows. He shivers a bit and rummages through his bag, retrieving a scarf. There are a lot of ways to combat cold – to move on from the past, to _forget_. Actively trying to keep yourself warm is one of them.

"Oh man, I'm _stuffed,_ " Baekhyun groans. He punches Myungsoo in his side. "Gyu-hyung's gonna drag my sorry ass all over the practice room and make me do more routines and _you_ are to blame for this– For me being _this_ full–"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. He'd come from a breakfast meeting with Sungjong this morning to hand over some designs. If things go as planned then there won't be any revisions. He'll walk away with a check three days from now. "Could've been earlier but _man,_ your fee's really steep. Had to convince the bosses to approve them. Told them they were getting their money's worth, anyway. Honestly, from one designer to another, the previous agency handling our brand? Everything they did was _crap,_ " Sungjong had explained, frowning before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. It didn't have a shot of espresso, so there was nothing but the scent of sweet chocolate dancing on its surface. None of the mix of bitter and sweet and the warmth that the drink brought with it.

"Your designs look... different," Sungjong mentioned before turning on his heel to leave.

Myungsoo furrowed his eyebrows. "A good kind of different or a bad kind?"

Sungjong pursed his lips, twisted his mouth. His eyes were narrowed and there was a peculiar upward tug on his cheeks. Myungsoo had seen that look before, when they were still working with each other. Sungjong would wear it whenever he was conflicted, didn't know how to feel about things. Or maybe he _did_ know exactly how he was feeling, only that he didn't want to admit it yet. Myungsoo gets that, the whole denial thing, saying one thing but meaning the complete opposite because of the storm inside you. It's normal to feel torn; it means you're considering everything that should be considered, not just shunning it away. Should he sock Woohyun in the gut for being an asshole or should he kick him in the balls? Or was it too much effort to hit Woohyun at all? Should he bump his elbow into Baekhyun's and startle crazy laughter out of him or should he move a little to the side so they can thread their fingers together under the guise of keeping their hands warm in their pockets? Something of that sort.

"A good kind," Sungjong answered after a while. He straightened up and smiled. His face was no longer contorted. He was _grinning._ "They... look as if they've been made with love."

Love doesn't create designs, Myungsoo wanted to say then as a joke. It's the designer who crafts these pieces of art with a purpose. But he also knows that when a designer is at peace with himself and with his work, great art is born. You fall in love with the brand, the product. You develop a better understanding of your client. Then you communicate that through the design you're creating. And then other people _get it._ That's design coming full circle. That's the ultimate goal of everyone who gets into design.

And then you capture that single moment of happiness in a photograph and frame it, hang it on your wall so you can be reminded of the magic behind your work. So that you can remind yourself that _hey,_ I can do something great and magical. I created _that_ , and I can do it again.

"You're doing the spacing thing out again," Baekhyun says now, tugging at his shirtsleeve. Myungsoo looks to his side and widens his eyes a little when he feels Baekhyun's cool fingers tightening around his wrist in a loose fist. " _Hey,_ stay with me."

They're walking along the streets of Gangnam. There are at least fifty – no, a hundred – other people around them, passing them by and maybe throwing them weird glances from time to time. And it's bright out here. The sun is up and there isn't anywhere to hide, no dark alley or space where they can step into the shadows and just look at each other in the eye, watching the slow-forming smile on each other's lips.

"Well _keep up,_ " Myungsoo replies, teasing. He pokes out his tongue, just a peek, then leans back just before Baekhyun can jab him again. Baekhyun doesn't quite hold back, though, following through until his knuckles are grazing Myungsoo's stomach. And then Baekhyun's curling his fingers into a loose fist in Myungsoo's shirt, pulling him close, close, _closer,_ the air between them thinning into short and quick breaths.

Myungsoo sucks in his bottom lip. "We're outside," he whispers.

Baekhyun gives him a tiny nod, just enough to make the tuft of his hair bounce. It's cute. It would've been better if Myungsoo could reach out ruffle it even more, if he could just lean in without having to look at either side of him before even attempting to look at Baekhyun in the eye. But that isn't the case. Baekhyun's an idol-to-be. He's Baekhyun's photographer. He signed a contract with SM to make Baekhyun look good on camera. And part of the contract, written in tiny, tiny text, so little that it's almost hard to miss – to never get the idol he's photographing into trouble. And to never get himself into trouble with the idol in question.

Baekhyun hasn't pulled away yet. The people passing them by haven't stopped and looked long enough to see the finer details, but there's no telling if there's someone a few feet away photographing them or looking at them silly. Or figuring this thing of theirs out, whatever the 'thing' should be called. Baekhyun calls it distracting Myungsoo; Myungsoo calls it an exercise in control and restraint. A test to see just how durable his heart can be.

He's always been good with tests, always emerged with great scores and passed them with flying colors. So he says again, "Baekhyun, we're _outside,_ " drawling his syllables his time. Baekhyun's eyebrows twitch a little. "I don't want you to get into trouble."

Then Baekhyun jerks back, just a tiny jolt of the body enough to reach Myungsoo and make him shiver. "Right. I'm sorry," Baekhyun then says, dropping his gaze to his feet, then unfurls his fingers from where he'd fisted them in Myungsoo's shirt. There's a nasty crease on Myungsoo's polo right now and Sunggyu will scribble stories all over this, all sorts of reminders, but that doesn't matter right now. The once bright smile on Baekhyun's lips has tugged down into a tight press of the lips, a vacant expression. There are other pressing matters to attend to.

Myungsoo casts him one last glance and pulls down his sleeves. Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, he reaches for the tips of Baekhyun's fingers and holds onto them as they walk the few remaining blocks back to the SM building. The streets aren't as crowded as they should be. Their coats are blocking their intertwined hands from everyone's view. They're safe, sort of. Still, Baekhyun tries to pull away from time to time. Maybe it's just logic kicking his body into a state of hyperawareness, with him constantly looking around them and withdrawing his hand but latching onto the pads of Myungsoo's fingers at the very last minute, but he's the first to clutch it tight when a car speeds past them, when two businessmen in a rush almost bump into them and Baekhyun pulls Myungsoo to his side.

"Fu–ntastic," Baekhyun grumbles, switching midway through when Myungsoo pinches him in his stomach to remind him that they're outside, there are _other people_ around them. 'You're an idol, Baekhyun. An SM idol. You're carrying the company's name.' Myungsoo doesn't even have to say it anymore. He's sure that Baekhyun knows the spiel like the back of his hand if the number of times he recites the same lines, the same set of words, everyday as Sunggyu does the exact same thing are anything to go by.

"Idol. _Idol,_ " Myungsoo hears Baekhyun whispering to himself like a mantra, or maybe even a prayer. A few more steps and they'll finally arrive at the SM building. A few more feet and Baekhyun can finally breathe.

It isn't until they take the lift that Baekhyun lets out a loud exhale. He throws his head back, leaning against the wall, then leans his head on Myungsoo's shoulder. His chest is heaving. They hadn't even been running. Myungsoo looks to his side, then, and waits – for Baekhyun to speak, for Baekhyun to _admit_ whatever he's feeling at the moment. For Baekhyun to ask for what he needs so Myungsoo can give it to him – a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen. A warm touch or maybe a kiss on the forehead if Myungsoo's feeling brave enough despite the cameras watching them like a hawk.

"This is hard," Baekhyun whispers after a while. He looks up, inching closer, until his forehead touches Myungsoo's. "What did I get myself into?"

Hell, Myungsoo wants to say, or maybe worse. Baekhyun is slaving his ass off at a ripe age, knowing that, in some ways, he's set himself up for disappointment. You can only do so much in the industry at the age of twenty-eight. Or twenty-nine, given the turn of the year. Maybe Baekhyun can go into doing movies, taking on mature roles, but he has to build a name for himself as an actor first. He has to secure his spot in the industry before taking off to pursue better things in life. He needs to go through all these hardships so he can win a mutizen, then a bonsang, then a daesang. Then he'll have successfully won over the hearts of people and SM's trust. Then he'll be happy, truly fulfilled.

That's the ideal scenario.

But the reality is this: Woohyun has just returned from wherever and is working on his next studio album. He's making a comeback in two, three months. SM has other artists in their roster, just waiting for the right time to enter the music scene again. There are too many people to compete with. So maybe Baekhyun will see a bit of success in his pursuit of a good music career, but there's no telling when he'll snag an award or leave an impression so great that people won't forget him when he goes into a hiatus to prepare for the next set of songs he'll be promoting. He's also competing with other things – his body, his will, his own self. And when he asked Myungsoo to grant him permission to distract him, he competed with Myungsoo's past, as well.

Myungsoo laughs to himself. There shouldn't even be competition anymore. There _isn't,_ he tells himself again and again. So he gives Baekhyun's head a light nudge, buries his nose in Baekhyuns' hair. "Deep shit?"

"Ha ha. Thanks," Baekhyun grumbles. There's no bitterness in his words, though, just fatigue and exasperation and a long, loud sigh. He reaches over, right hand crossing over to the left side of Myungsoo's body, but he stops midway and drops his hand. Myungsoo gulps hard, shivering a little. He contemplates asking _why,_ hugging is normal, hugging a friend is _safe_ and they're not violating any rules by wrapping their arms around each other, right? But then Baekhyun snakes his other arm around Myungsoo's waist to pull him close, their bodies aligning.

Myungsoo clenches his fists. This whole craving for warmth thing is alarming, daunting. It makes his insides turn and makes him sick. But it also feels like kicking off the ground, feeling so light and unburdened for the first time in a long, long time. For the first time in half a decade.

Baekhyun shifts a little, moving even closer. He buries his face in the slope of Myungsoo's neck and whispers, "No, really, thank you."

"Thank _you,_ " Myungsoo whispers. He can feel the slow-forming smile on Baekhyun's lips, the grin stretching across his mouth and pulling up at the corners. And then Baekhyun's lips are on his skin, his tongue hot and wet and tracing dizzying circles. _Idol,_ the word rings in Myungsoo's ears, but it's becoming difficult to think with Baekhyun's cold fingers splayed on his stomach, keeping him in place. It's becoming hard to do anything but take quick breaths and bite back the throaty moan threatening to spill from his lips when Baekhyun sucks marks on his skin, leaving tiny packets of red on the slope of his neck and just above his collarbones. He will _regret this_ later, when they get to the practice room and he has to wear a scarf around his neck despite the sweltering heart, when Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him and mumbles, "Scarf, huh?" He'll regret not pushing Baekhyun away because now his insides are turning all the more from the heat of Baekhyun's palm pressed on his abdomen.

But he'll regret it even more if he doesn't taste himself on Baekhyun's lips before the doors of the lift open, before they hop right back into reality and out of their tiny, little world.

The elevator gives off a soft 'ding' and Baekhyun pulls away with an easy smile, calm and calculated. He runs his fingers through his hair and wipes the corners of his mouth. His lips are swollen, too red, too inviting. I did that, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. I did that to him. Then he sees his reflection on the walls of the elevator, the disheveled look in his features, the bright red marks on his skin.

He takes a deep breath and muses, he did this to _me._

And then everything comes back to him – Baekhyun's request, Baekhyun assuring him that he isn't asking for anything but a smile in return, Baekhyun telling him, making it clear that _I like you. I like solving puzzles. I like challenges. I like you._ Words, tangible words that Myungsoo can record on a casette tape and play again and again until the tape loosens and gives out. Words that he can have tattooed on his skin so he won't ever forget that there's this man who sings his heart out without fear of getting judged _telling him_ , in the face, that he wants him. Baekhyun is giving him the whole package – a comforting touch, a shoulder to learn on, his words and his song, his heart. All Myungsoo has to do is to tug at the edge of the ribbon and open the gift, unravel it, see where it takes him. _Them._

He drops the chains to the ground and picks up the red ribbon. He balls his hands into fists in his own shirt and thinks, why the hell not?

Slowly, the doors slide to the corners, revealing an expanse of space in front of them. There's an entire hall ahead leading to too many places. The practice room Baekhyun frequents is at the far end, the one off-white door versus the pristine white of the others. Reality's just one step away. So Myungsoo wraps his fingers around Baekhyun's wrist and pulls him forward until they're toeing the line in between, until he can back Baekhyun against the frame and lean in close enough to smell the sweat in his hair. The camera can't catch them here. The entire floor is silent. They have twenty seconds until the elevator timer runs out and until the alarm rings. He has twenty seconds to do the jump, take a leap of faith, knowing that there's someone fifty feet below to catch him.

Baekhyun looks around them, then looks up at Myungsoo. He sucks in his bottom lip. "What are you doing?"

Myungsoo licks his lips. Baekhyun's eyes are drawn to them without meaning to. "What I should've done weeks ago."

Myungsoo looks around for an audience. Nothing but a blank white on his left, the reflection of their pressed bodies on his right. Slowly, he leans forward, _closer,_ until he can feel the light trembling of Baekhyun's lips against his own. Baekhyun's eyes are blown wide and his chest is heaving in tiny jumps, quick intakes of breath that match the movement of his lips. And he's lovely. Sunlight from the windows nearby hits him and sets him aglow, _aflame,_ and illuminates his features. From where Myungsoo is, he can see the uneven dip of Baekhyun's lips, can see the pimples on his cheek not covered with make up. The words brimming on Baekhyun's lips, dancing on them until they tumble in stuttered sentences.

"Are you _crazy?_ " Baekhyun mutters, whispers, chuckles.

Myungsoo nods. "Maybe." He moves even closer. Baekhyun's lips are rough, chapped. This has to be rectified soon. "Definitely."

Baekhyun tilts his head back a little but ends up thunking it a bit too hard against the metal. He parts his lips, the small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth blooming into bright laughter. And Myungsoo swallows the sound whole, crushing their lips together in an inelegant slide of their mouths. Baekhyun makes these tiny hiccuped noises at the back of his throat, a small sound of frustration when Myungsoo pulls away a bit to suck on his bottom lip, so he translates the words, slips his hands beneath Myungsoo's shirt and traces the groove of Myungsoo's abs with his fingers. There's a surprised chuckle somewhere there, a hitch of the breath, but Myungsoo keeps kissing him, sucking on his lips, his tongue, licking the corners of Baekhyun's mouth until the alarm goes off. And the smile on Baekhyun's lips hasn't waned yet, the stream of laughter only growing louder everytime they part to catch their breath, everytime Baekhyun whispers, "You are a _monster._ "

"Hello? Can you please shut the door?" comes a voice from the direction of the surveillance camera, and that's when they part, Baekhyun's laughter drowning out the voice. They walk away from the elevator with a dull ache in their jaws and heaving chests, three inches between them, the tight link of their gazes enough to thin those spaces between them with the light brushing of their knuckles.

ミ☆

He runs into Woohyun on his way to the bathroom.

More like Woohyun finally manages to trap him in the bathroom after he'd tried to lose the former earlier, entering one practice room after another and randomly commenting on various trainees' performances. On the up side, he was able to see SHINee and LuNa up close. He's always been a fan of them, being some of the artists whose albums he's actually bought physical copies of. On the down side, he'd missed Baekhyun's last run of his winter song. Baekhyun has been practicing the songs he hadn't touched in a while again, saying he might not know how to sing them anymore. The paranoia is warranted; with only four months left to prepare and a shoot and a half still in their to-do list, there's hardly time to really polish his routine and make sure that there's no way he can screw any of his performances.

He met Baekhyun back in November, when winter was slowly setting in. Skies were almost always overcast and the winds were always blowing too hard. It's spring now. If Baekhyun just learned to smile that bright smile of his more then maybe he could overpower the sun. Maybe.

"Were you running away from me?" is the first thing that Woohyun asks. The second, "Did you _seriously_ break into other practice rooms just to avoid me?"

Myungsoo scoffs. He rests one hand on the door knob, poised to give it a slick turn. He wasn't _running away;_ he was just looking for ways to avoid trouble, danger. He knows how his body reacts to Woohyun's presence – it revolts against his mind and logic. Makes him do weird and crazy things. Sure, he's resolved to himself to get a move on and not look back anymore, but recovery isn't instant. Healing wounds takes time. Even polaroids take time to develop. When the film comes out, you'll be greeted with nothing but an expanse of white and a promise of good things to come minutes after.

"Not really," he answers after a while. To address the second question, he says, "I'm a big fan of SHINee, you know that. I just thought I should maximize my stay here and–"

"Why _are_ you here today? Last I checked, you didn't have a shoot scheduled."

To visit a friend, he'd say, but that doesn't sound accurate. He's here to iron out things run the first batch of shots from yesterday's shoot by Sunggyu and Baekhyun so he can start editing some tonight. He's here to finalize plans for tomorrow's shoot, as well, make sure that Sehun and Jongin have the Kino Flo he'd requested two days ago because they can't go for redheads and blue gels anymore with the colors that spring brings. Spring's warmth plus white light brings out the vibe of the season even more, _better,_ amplifies it tenfold and makes Baekhyun seem more at ease with modeling than he should be. And he's here to watch Baekhyun and give him feedback on his performance. That has become his other part-time job with SM, after all – Baekhyun's friend who isn't afraid to give blunt comments when needed. Baekhyun's distraction from the stress and fatigue this idol life of his brings. And Baekhyun's object of affection because he has so much love to give. Sunggyu has always said that Baekhyun had so much unspent energy in him that he was always bouncing on the balls of his feet, always on his heels. Sunggyu's wrong; Baekhyun just doesn't know where to slot his hands when he isn't holding a microphone and performing. Baekhyun just needs someone to listen to him, not marvel at him. He just needs someone to be _there_ for him.

"The shoot was yesterday. We have another tomorrow. I just have to make sure that Sehun and Jongin are bringing the right lights. We'll be on location tomorrow, after all."

Woohyun shrugs. He rests one hand on his waist and tilts his head to the side. "Mhmm. Cool. Their office is at the ground floor, though. Bet you knew that." He laughs. Myungsoo wants to punch him in the face. Or in the balls. Whichever requires less effort but leaves more pain. "Why were you running to the bathroom, then?"

"I needed to take a dump," Myungsoo reasons.

"Then please, by all means, shit all over the place." Woohyun shifts, then digs his hands in his back pocket. "But before that, please... Please give me a chance to talk to you."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. The last time they talked, really talked was that time when Woohyun explained that he didn't want to risk his career for a 'silly love story with a silly man'. Dreams before dicks. As simple as that. It made sense – Woohyun _had_ been working hard to get recognized a singer, after all, had been doing gigs in Hongdae and Itaewon. He and Sunggyu were always invited, all expenses paid. All they had to do was to show up in their best mood and party outfit and nothing else. They had access to the open bar, thanks to the generosity of the club owner, and were more than able dancers. And Woohyun had the ability to draw people in. Sometimes, he'd even give pro-bono shows long after his set was over. That was what made Woohyun loved by all – you could feel his passion for singing and performing just by seeing him stand on stage. He didn't even have to grab a mic and starting. All he had to do was to stand there, head held high. Then the lights would always seem to wrap around him the right way, illuminating his best features and hiding the imperfections.

The last time Myungsoo attended one of Woohyun's gigs was way after graduation. He'd lined up with the crowd and paid for the entrance. He grabbed the complimentary drink and stuck with it the whole night, until Woohyun went up on stage. Woohyun caught him staring, _watching_ a couple of times, but neither of them had the balls to walk up to each other to sort things out.

If they wanted to make things work then they would have done something, _anything._ But they didn't. They were a disaster waiting to happen.

That's all in the past, Myungsoo tells himself. Maybe Woohyun has changed. Maybe he's better now. Maybe's no longer the fuck up that he used to be. So he says, "Go on," and locks the door behind him.

Woohyun smiles, takes a deep breath. He parts his lips and says, "I'm... sorry."

The last time Myungsoo was trapped in a bathroom, he found Baekhyun and found a sliver of light peeking from the narrow crack in his walls. The situation he is in now... It's vastly different from that. Here Woohyun is, standing just a few feet away, dressed in his simple practice jeans and shirt and worn-out shoes. He doesn't look like the same SM idol that he is on TV, or posters, or the man in the CDs Myungsoo has back at home. He doesn't look like 'NamWoo'. Who even thought that was a nice name? It's horrible, leaves a bad taste in Myungsoo's mouth the same way that Woohyun calling their 'relationship' and Myungsoo 'silly' left the taste of blood so thick on Myungsoo's tongue. He looks like good ol' Nam Woohyun who was a music production major but spent more time in the design department with the photography kids. He looks like the same friend who Myungsoo would normally turn to in times of need, whenever he needed a second _and_ honest opinion on his designs. He looks like the same guy who helped Myungsoo realize that you don't need to be among the great photographers of the era to be able to produce good photographs. You just have to believe in yourself and keep practicing. Shoot and shoot until you run out of film or battery. Shoot until you can see yourself in your photographs, in the tiny still recordings of people's lives even if you don't know the people who you're taking photographs of. Your craft is an extension of yourself, after all. If you can't find yourself in it then maybe you're not looking hard enough, not digging deep enough. Maybe you haven't played around with the exposure and other settings enough to know that Tungsten should never be used on scenes that have cool lighting, or that Cloudy should never be used indoors unless you're dealing with fluorescent lighting.

And that Daylight is always the safest setting, the brightest light. You can never go wrong with it.

"Sorry for what?" Myungsoo asks now. He leans back against the door, takes a deep breath. "You have to tell me what you're apologizing for."

"I'm sorry for everything."

"Specifics, Woohyun. Figures, numbers, _details._ " He worries his bottom lip. Woohyun hasn't changed a bit, still unwilling to use his words and resorting to using his limbs, instead. Woohyun kicks on the tiled floor. "Use your words, Woohyun. It's been years and _what,_ you'll still leave it up to me to figure out what you want to say?"

"Whoa. Don't you go telling me now to use my words. You barely said anything. You always– What was that?" Woohyun laughs a little. It sounds rough, dry. Hardened by experience and distance. "You'd always whisper things and just use your hands instead of repeating whatever you said–"

"At least I used my words. Said what I meant to say. I speak up more often now. I had to learn the hard way," Myungsoo argues. He looks to his side, biting the of his cheek. His hands are balled into fists. He can slam them onto the door and cause ruckus, or he can punch Woohyun in the goddamned face for being so uncooperative. He's done solving puzzles and figuring out word problems. He's painting scenes now, _lives._ He doesn't want to slip into the same old habit of deciphering the quirk of Woohyun's lips, his eyes, his discerning gaze. "But you– Woohyun, you always left me hanging. Left notes instead of saying what you wanted to say. Well _thank you_ for the notes, I appreciate them. _Appreciated them._ " He drawls out the last few syllables. "You don't even sing your own goddamned songs because you don't know how– Or you _don't want_ to acknowledge how you feel."

Woohyun drops his gaze to his feet. Clasps his hands together, too, his knuckles turning a brighter white with every passing second. The tight knot in Myungsoo's chest loosens a little, but returns with a vengeance when he takes a deep breath. Old wounds haven't healed just yet. It takes time. "Five years, Woohyun. It's been _five years._ Come on, prove to me that you're better now. That you didn't just waste away those five years of your life pretending to be some perfect creature on camera and singing someone else's songs when you can very well write your own and sing them."

Woohyun laughs. "You think I'm _perfect_?"

Myungsoo snorts. "I saw that coming."

"And you know my lyrics are shit. _You_ should know that better than anyone else." Woohyun scratches his nape, three lazy scratches as if he's still trying to peel the surface of his emotions, scouring for the right words. "I know _nothing_ about writing nice songs whatsoever," he continues.

Myungsoo smiles a little. "But they mean more to you. The ones you... we wrote before. Back in college." With each other, for each other. It was fall of their last year in college. It was a song about falling out of love and falling back in. In some ways, it was opposite their story. But thinking about it, maybe they weren't talking about falling for each other. Maybe they were talking about falling in love with themselves again, finding something to appreciate in their own selves and using that to come up with better words – songs, art. The shit people say about artists being arrogant and self-loathing? It's true, but only because the things they make with their hands all contain a part of them. Tiny pieces of the artist – tears, blood, sweat, time and effort, love – that all make up the very core of the artwork, the song, the photograph, the performance.

"The Three Bears parody?"

"Shut up," Myungsoo whispers. He inches closer, then kicks one of Woohyun's shoes. "You know what I'm talking about."

Woohyun's shoulder slump forward. His white shirt is almost threadbare and the dip of the v-neck reveals pale flesh. His hair looks like a disaster, clumped together by heat and sweat and hard work. And he has dark circles under his eyes. It's almost impossible for idols to not have scars of hard work on their faces, but Woohyun just looks so drained and dampened by fatigue. He almost looks like that lost kid Myungsoo discovered Woohyun to be after that art appreciation class of theirs, where Woohyun was in the garden and slumped against the wall, head phones slung on and blasting Dave Matthews Band songs on repeat. The live tracks.

"You left your... notes. In class," Myungsoo remembers saying then. He tossed two thick notebooks in Woohyun's direction. In hindsight, he should've thrown them straight to Woohyun's face. Woohyun addressed him with a curt nod and didn't speak until five minutes after, when Crash Into Me came on and Woohyun realized Myungsoo hadn't left yet.

"You like DMB?" Woohyun asked.

Myungsoo shrugged. DMB was his favorite artist of the year. He had all their songs on his MP3 player. And Woohyun was a stranger who was hyperactive in class but had little to no energy outside the classroom. "They're okay."

"They're _okay?_ They're not just–" Woohyun huffed. "Look, kid, you clearly haven't heard their best songs yet–"

Myungsoo would walk home with a friend that afternoon, the music split between their headsets using Myungsoo's headphone splitter. That night, they'd both write a song akin to Crash Into Me and show it to each other too many months and little concerts after.

There's no music to make Woohyun perk up now, though, to jolt Woohyun back to life and out of his current slumped form. So Myungsoo takes a few steps back, unlocking the door, then walks back forward to where Woohyun is and gives him a gentle nudge. Slowly, he plays the opening chords of the song they wrote in his mind, the guitar coming in in a soft, gentle tune. He's taken back to five years and a couple of months ago, to Woohyun's dorm room in K-ARTS, one fine autumn evening with nothing but Woohyun's desk lamp illuminating the chords and lyrics they'd written on the paper.

"I was perched outside in the pouring rain, trying to make myself a sail," Myungsoo begins, voice starting out faint. It's been years since he last sang, really sang with the intent of articulating his words. He'd usually just hum under his breath and sway his head from side to side. Somehow, it was enough to just have instrumentals in the background. He'd let his mind make up the lyrics, replace some words in the original lyrics with words he thinks fit the tune better. It's better that way, songs not having a set meaning and, instead, deriving their very essence from the music, itself. "Then I'll float to you, my darling, with the evening on my tail–"

"Although not the most honest means of travel, it gets me there, nonetheless," Woohyun continues, looking up and meeting Myungsoo in the eye. His eyes are wide, searching, _asking,_ why do you still remember? Why are you singing this? Why, of all the songs we've made, this one? Simple: it's the first that came to mind. It's the song that, when he closes his eyes and just _thinks_ of Woohyun, he'll start humming. It's _the_ Woohyun song. "I'm a heartless man, at worst, babe, and a helpless one at best–"

The percussion comes in in Myungsoo's mind. Woohyun straightens up. He taps a familiar beat on the counter, fingers drumming on the surface. They're eye-to-eye now and he can see Woohyun better, can make out the movement of his lips, the movement in his throat, the way his voice resonates in every part of his body. It almost feels like college, when the three of them would just stay in Woohyun's room or maybe Sunggyu's, jamming to some of their favorite tunes and trying to rework them, trying to make those songs better. Except it isn't. They're in a bathroom, just the two of them, without Sunggyu to harmonize with them. They don't have their guitars with them and they don't have anyone to provide them with percussions. They can't even tell who's singing lead vocals and who's doing second vocals. Where their voices would find a nice fit before with only minimal to little coordination, it's now become difficult to harmonize. Woohyun's voice has become ten times more rounded and deeper than before. There's still the same grit and gravel to his voice but it's _different_ now, as if they're two bodies moving to two different beats, two voices singing two different songs. And Myungsoo knows that voice but doesn't know _how_ to sing with it anymore, like those five long years between them have washed away the last dregs of their duets.

Woohyun presses on, though. Myungsoo accommodates. He raises his voice an octave higher and _it works,_ but not without putting strain on Myungsoo's vocals.

He stops singing after a while, when they hit the bridge, where the percussions thin into silence and then come back stronger, hit harder. Woohyun's voice echoes in the bathroom, fills Myungsoo's senses with a strange kind of warmth he hasn't felt in years. And it's sickening. His chest feels so full and his stomach is a mess and there are tens, hundreds, thousands of voices screaming at the back of his mind. You can sing with him if you tried hard enough, you can still catch up. _What are you waiting for, Myungsoo? Woohyun's just a touch away and if you just leaned closer–_

Woohyun balls his hands into fists in Myungsoo's shirt. Myungsoo jerks back, looking away and looking to his side. "Just... give me some candy before I go," Woohyun keeps singing, albeit in a fainter voice, until it cracks and falters. This is it, Myungsoo thinks, the best part of the song where every emotion the verses kept trying to push down are soaring above the song itself. It's too warm, _too hot_ that Woohyun's touch feels like scalding his own tongue or burning his skin. Woohyun isn't even tugging that hard on his top or pulling him close. He's just there, holding onto Myungsoo's shirt tight, like if he so much as thought of loosening his grip, Myungsoo would run away.

_You know that I'll be there waiting for you–_ Myungsoo remembers this part of the song. He was the one who added that part, the one who insisted to keep the lyric for the last minute of the song to a hymn of the same line. It sounded perfect that time – Woohyun kept running off and running around. Myungsoo stood still in his place and waited for Woohyun to return to him after band practice, after his gigs, after flirting with his female bandmate on stage. After drinking up the fame and forgetting that he started small, in that tiny dorm room that used to feel too big even with three bodies cramped in it. He sang himself hoarse but only until nine in the evening because he didn't want to disturb neighbors then; there was enough turmoil in himself as it is. No need to get others into his own mess.

And Woohyun couldn't hear Myungsoo's hoarse singing. Couldn't hear beyond the cheers of the people, _his fans._ Couldn't hear the voice of the person who wrote most, if not all the songs he sang on stage. So Myungsoo looked to the lights, instead, wished for the bright lights to blind him so he wouldn't have to see Woohyun sing _his life_ on the same stage that forced Woohyun to wear a different skin.

Behind them, the door knob turns. Myungsoo shakes his head and takes a step back. Woohyun tries to chase after him, fingers grasping at air, but to no avail – Myungsoo has already taken three steps back to the one forward motion Woohyun makes.

"Stop," Myungsoo whispers. Woohyun's eyes widen. Woohyun has stopped drumming his fingers on the counter like the music in him has died. It hasn't. It _shouldn't._ Passion isn't supposed to cripple you like this; it's supposed to fuel you, boost your drive to great heights. And they've always been bad news for each other, nothing but bad news.

The rattling of the door knob comes to a halt. Woohyun hasn't stopped furrowing his eyebrows just yet, hasn't stopped narrowing his eyebrows and squinting and inching closer, like covering the distance between them with a few steps is supposed to make a difference. "What do you _mean_ stop? We–" He laughs, but it comes out too throaty, like Woohyun hasn't vocalized yet. They were singing just a few minutes ago. Myungsoo winces. "We just saw each other again. You're supposed to give me a chance because I know better now, Soo, I _know_ better now! I–"

Myungsoo takes another step back. He can feel his eyebrows twitching. And he can feel his chest constrict, the thrumming inside him quickening in pace. When Woohyun reaches out, hand stopping midway through, he shakes his head again. Then Woohyun's dropping his hand to his side, shoulders slumping forward and his gaze dropping to the tiled floor. "You can't tell me what to do–"

"And don't tell me it was _that_ easy for you to just throw everything away. Just don't–" Woohyun takes a deep breath. "We've just seen each other again, Soo. We haven't even tried again. I mean, I know how to cover my tracks now. I can sneak out of my house if I wanted to without getting tracked. I know how to disappear off the face of the earth and–"

And Woohyun knows exactly how to crash into someone's life again, like he hadn't wrecked the same thing years ago. Like it hadn't taken years just to get started on the patching work. Woohyun's a ticking time bomb, a walking ball of disaster. And Myungsoo knows better. He's not about to put all his hard work to waste, drop his suitcase and rush into Woohyun's waiting arms on a whim.

"And you have to stop this."

"Stop telling me to–" Woohyun pinches the bridge of his nose. "Stop telling me to _stop!_ "

This one's familiar – he recognizes it from years ago, when Woohyun would get caught in a sticky web of the shit he's done and he _knew_ there was nothing he could do to escape it. But he _would_ still attempt to shovel his way out of his grave because why the hell not, right? If Woohyun was better at anything other than singing and performing then it would be being stubborn, hard-headed. Being too persistent to the point of foolishly rushing into things because 'it's not over 'til it's over.' Pushing himself and pushing road blocks until he can push them off a cliff and claim victory over his hurdles.

But there's nothing to push anymore. They've both fallen off the cliff and fallen hard. They've already pushed themselves off the ground and gotten back to their feet. Myungsoo's not stupid enough to run as fast as he can until he can't feel the ground beneath his feet anymore, until he's falling back down without any chance of survival. And he's not stupid enough to watch Woohyun willingly throw himself into the bottomless pit. He'll pull Woohyun out of the mess as soon as he can.

So Myungsoo tells him, "Don't do this to yourself." He rests one hand on the knob behind them, just places it there without giving the knob a twist. He can feel the subtle movement, though, the slow turning of the metal and the wisps of noise on the other side of the door seeping through the narrow opening. The dissonance calms him a little; the cool sensation on his palm slows down the racing in his chest. "Woohyun, we're both better without... without whatever we had. Let's stop this."

Woohyun furrows his eyebrows. Too familiar, Myungsoo muses – this is the face Woohyun wears when he wants to get something, desperately wants to win the battle by a landslide and nothing less. And lurching sensation in his stomach is familiar, too. It's overwhelming, consuming. It makes him sick.

"That's it, Soo? No second chances? You kept declining my calls and kept avoiding me all these years. If we could just _start over,_ if you could just give me one more chance, a minute, a second, a couple of days–"

"Then we'll be back where we began," Myungsoo finishes. He bites down on his lower lip, trying to bring back the feeling in his fingers, but they're still cold. Too cold. If Baekhyun were here then Baekhyun would have reached for his hand already without Myungsoo having to say anything. He'd just hold it by the tips, testing the waters and counting to ten until Myungsoo relaxes into the touch. Until Myungsoo threads their fingers together and pulls him close. And that's the thing: Baekhyun waits for the right time, then launches his attack once he's sure of what he wants. He gave Myungsoo an option. Woohyun's giving him a chance to break his heart again, forcing Myungsoo to give him another chance. "And then we might fuck things up again. Woohyun, you're an idol. You have people watching you 24/7. You _can't_ afford to be seen with me doing whatever–"

"And Baekhyun has that leisure?" Woohyun says. He laughs a little. "I knew it, the moment I saw you two, I knew there was something. The way he looked at you, _Jesus–_ " He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. The smile on his lips hangs loosely at the corners, stiff and trite. Myungsoo just wants to wipe it away – with his hands, his fists, never his lips. "He's an idol, too. How come you hang out with him and let him put his arms around your waist? How come you let him hold your hand? How come you–" He hangs his head low, voice almost dropping to a whisper.

"Why him?" Woohyun asks. A heartbeat, then, "Why not me?"

Myungsoo presses his lips together. The answer is there, at the back of his throat, waiting for a clumsy enunciation. And he would've blurted it out even before Woohyun could finish is he was five years younger, if he was young and wild and too stupid to think of the consequences of his actions. But he's old now. Things have changed. He's been thinking things through ever since Woohyun left, reading the road signs more carefully, and all of them are leading him to the fastest way out.

"Because he knew what he wanted right from the start. And he let me know that," Myungsoo begins. He takes a deep breath when Woohyun looks up, meeting his gaze. Woohyun eyes are dark, heavy. They look like a barricaded door. So Myungsoo starts knocking, gently prying Woohyun open, hoping to make him understand. "And he never forced anything on me. He never– He gave me an option but he never made me choose."

"And I did?"

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. "You forced me to," he answers, then scratches his jeans a little. "When you said you don't want to risk your career for your 'silly love story with a silly boy.'"

"Shit," Woohyun whispers. "You... remembered."

"I remember everything. It's a built-mechanism. It's a curse," he answers, "But there's also the option to remember other things, better ones." A good morning call from Baekhyun, long conversations over breakfast. Surprising Sunggyu in the SM building by arriving an hour early and offering to pay. Surprising Baekhyun late at night by showing up for his practice and staying there until he's done even if Myungsoo already knows the way he moves so well that he can close his eyes and know, just by the sound of Baekhyun's sneakers squeaking, that Baekhyun's there. And that Baekhyun's moving closer, that Baekhyun's telling him to open his eyes, _look at me now, Myungsoo. Open your eyes–_

And Baekhyun surprising him at the end of the day with the warmth of his palms and the slide of their hands, their fingers in a nice, snug fit between each other. Baekhyun surprising him by falling silent when the wind blows and just letting him speak. Baekhyun listening, singing with him when Myungsoo asks him to. And Baehyun never overpowering his voice but, instead, guiding it until Myungsoo feels confident enough to belt out the big notes.

Woohyun leans back against the counter. There's a small smile tugging up at the corners of his lips, but his eyes haven't lightened up yet. "So I really _was_ a douchebag, huh?"

Myungsoo snorts, cackles. He presses the back of his hand to his lips, dropping it to his side only when he can feel his tongue again. "And you _finally_ admit it."

"Hey, that's mean!" Woohyun retorts. He grumbles, moving forward to land a light jab to Myungsoo's arm. "You are _evil–_ "

Behind them, the door swings open, hitting Myungsoo on the back just hard enough to make him yowl. "Oh shit," comes a familiar voice, and suddenly the pain lifts a little. The sting of the impact dissipates, eases into the normal thrumming inside his body when a warm palm comes to settle on his back. " _Oh shit,_ I am _so sorry,_ I didn't mean to–"

Myungsoo looks over his shoulder, meeting Baekhyun in the eye. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. Myungsoo laughs a little. It's so spontaneous a reaction that if Sunggyu saw it, he'd tell Baekhyun to 'fix his face'. SM trains its talents to look approachable all the time, to look as if they're free of worries and hardships, but Baekhyun's a rule-breaker. He holds Myungsoo's hand in public even if winter's long gone. He goes out without make up sometimes because, "It smells _awful_. And when I sweat a lot and my sweat rolls down to my eyes, it feels like stabbing my eyes with toothpicks. Metal toothpicks. The really sharp ones. But yeah, it just... really smells bad." And Baekhyun isn't afraid to scrunch his face to communicate what his mind is saying when his tongue is having difficulty catching up with his own thoughts.

'What the hell is he doing there?' Baekhyun mouths at him. He looks at Woohyun, then, and blinks a few times. Recalibrates. Puts on his best, most behaved idol face as he says, "Hello. We... met. A few days back."

Woohyun laughs a little. "You took him away from me," he says, cocking his head in Myungsoo's direction. Baekhyun cocks and eyebrow at him at the same time that Myungsoo does. It almost seems like his expressions are an extension of Baekhyun's and vice versa. Or maybe they've just been hanging out with each other far too much that they've already picked up each other's knee-jerk reactions to even the smallest of things. "I mean that night, when Sunggyu called to say he was picking you up and stuff. You had your... hands around his waist. When you pulled him away." He takes a deep breath. "Don't let anyone else see you doing that. If I were the management then I'd flip and call you out on that but–"

But you would have done the same, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says. Woohyun would've done the same, albeit a bit more stealthily. He's never been too big on risks, after all. Maybe ball his hands into fists in Myungsoo's shirt at the back instead of securing his hands on Myungsoo's waist to pull him away from the scene. Then he'd hold Myungsoo by the arm instead of the wrist because it's not as risky but just as warm. It would just seem as if he's redirecting Myungsoo somewhere else. No big deal. And then he'd keep Myungsoo a safe six inches away instead of pulling him close until Myungsoo could feel nothing but their shared heat in the fit of their bodies. Safe plays, no risks. The only big risks Woohyun takes are the high notes well outside his range that he belts out, despite the knowledge that there's only a tiny sweet spot between his highest tone and his falsetto where his voice should fall under for him to pull off a really high note.

"But you understand, don't you?" Baekhyun says. He takes a step forward. His palm is still warm on the small of Myungsoo's back. He's rubbing weird figures on Myungsoo's back with his thumb, doodles without any direction. Maybe he just wants to do something with his hands. Maybe he's trying to restore the feeling in his fingers. Maybe he doesn't want to be here, and he wants to escape _now,_ but– "But you know how it feels, being trapped. What we have to go through as idols, what we... have to sacrifice and what we'd do just to steal a few minutes of freedom," Baekhyun continues. Myungsoo looks to his side, meeting Baekhyun's gaze. They're focused, not piercing. Discerning, not attacking. "The crazy things we have to do just to... I dunno, be able to breathe?"

Woohyun laughs a little. "I have a shitty memory and it's been years since I debuted but yeah, I... know how that feels." He locks his arms behind his back, stretching them until he can hear his bones crack. He smiles, more relaxed at the corners. His cheeks no longer look stiff. Myungsoo sort of... wants to reach out and maybe brush that lone bead of sweat on his cheek. Or the water welling up at the corners of his eyes. But that's not his job anymore. Woohyun's a big boy now. They're all big boys now, the three of them. They should know how to deal with their own shit by now. "Standing by the rules has its merits, I'll have you know that, but... You're something, kid. To have enough courage to do _that_ in the building, knowing that the management can terminate your contract anytime–"

Myungsoo gulps down hard. He can feel Baekhyun's pulse on his back, seeping through his threadbare shirt. So he stays there, moves even closer until he can reach for Baekhyun's waist with his own hand. "He's crazy," he mutters when Baekhyun leans into the touch. He gives Baekhyun a tiny pinch in the side, then, just enough to earn a faint 'hey!'.

"Can't say he's wrong, though. I am a bit crazy," Baekhyun admits. He scratches the slope of his neck with a finger, just one, and Woohyun's eyes widen a little. One bright red scratch on the expanse of skin, then some two, three short lines near his collarbone. Then a bright red mark blooming on the underside of his jaw from where Myungsoo had reminded him earlier that _I've made my decision, Baekhyun. I've made a choice. And I choose you._

Myungsoo's stomach does a funny tumble. He laughs a little. It's the silliest thing he's ever said while at the height of his emotions but it communicated the message well, right? He needs more practice in this whole articulating your feelings thing, but he's getting there. And step one is being completely honest with himself. That's the least he can offer to Baekhyun for all the help Baekhyun has given him, for all of Baekhyun's patience in helping Myungsoo put the puzzle pieces together so he can finally finished the damned picture.

He pulls Baekhyun even closer to his side, shivering a little at the surge of warmth. Baekhyun chokes a little, but presses on. "And Sunggyu-hyung calls me his biggest headache _so_ I guess I'm not... one of those conventional Korean idols of our generation."

Woohyun looks up, looks at Myungsoo until their eyes meet. A corner of his lips quirks up at the same time that he tilts his head to the side. It's almost as if he's saying, I missed something. When I said that earlier that I knew something was going between you two, I thought I already saw _everything_ but _Jesus,_ Myungsoo, I knew I was missing something, somehow. He holds his hands up, then, using his index fingers and thumbs to form a frame. "Damn, you two would look good on print. Digital. Whatever. You two look really good," he mumbles, but there's no grit to his tone, none of the natural gravel that his voice usually has when he's singing to please and to impress. Right now he's just... saying something, saying what he wants to say, what he means to say. "I... might just be a fan."

" _Might_ just be?" Baekhyun teases. "You're not sure?"

Myungsoo nudges Baekhyun in his side. Baekhyun groans, but the choked voice soon blooms into bright laughter when Myungsoo massages the area he's assaulted just earlier.

Woohyun takes a deep breath and takes a step back. Myungsoo hasn't looked away from Baekhyun yet, unwilling to back down from the all-out staring game, but he can make out the soft smile on Woohyun's lips from a corner of his eye. So he blinks, turns to his side, but keeps his fingers splayed on Baekhyun's stomach. He stays there, right beside Baekhyun, but returns the smile Woohyun is offering him one of his own.

Woohyun doesn't answer until a minute or two after, once they've already shuffled outside the bathroom and Baekhyun has already solicited hair advice from him. He opens his mouth to speak, lips trembling a little, but his hand is steady on Myungsoo's shoulder. His fingers are cold, but his palm is warm. Just a little more, Myungsoo thinks, just a little more and the warmth will seep into the rest of Woohyun's body, thawing him out and keeping him warm and alive again. Just one small step, one hitch of the breath, and Woohyun will finally be able to step out of the darkness.

"I'm sure," he says, voice firm and resolute. Myungsoo looks at Woohyun's hand on his shoulder, then looks up to meet his gaze. "I'm... sure now."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. Slowly, he turns around, but not without whistling at Baekhyun to, "Hey, hold up!" He extends his hand in Woohyun's direction, then, still maintaining a good twelve inches between them. This has always been Woohyun's comfortable distance from people, after all. Maybe soon, he can thin that to a couple of centimeters or even to just a deep breath.

"Are you entering into a deal with me?" Woohyun asks, laughing.

"No. I'm just saying hello to a fan," Myungsoo answers. Woohyun slips his hand in Myungsoo's own, and Myungsoo gives it a light squeeze. "And saying 'welcome back' to an old friend."

Woohyun's eyes widen. For a moment, Myungsoo wonders if Woohyun will pull him in for a hug because he's always been better at talking with his body, but Woohyun doesn't. Instead, he just stands there, parting his lips then pressing them together and then parting them open again. So Myungsoo counts to three, five, ten in his head, until Woohyun mutters, "Ugh Christ, this talking this is–" under his breath.

"Say it," Myungsoo challenges. "Come on, say it."

"I need time to process things."

"That's not what you wanted to say."

"Oh, _shut up!_ You don't know what I really want to–"

Myungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him and tightens his hold on Woohyun's hand. They're twenty-eight going on twenty-nine. They have a more extensive vocabulary now than when they were in college where half of the words they knew were modifications of 'shit', 'fuck', and 'asshole'. And they should know themselves better now, should know how to express themselves in words where actions will not suffice.

Taking a deep breath, Woohyun nods to himself and opens his eyes. The nasty dark circles are still there, pulling down the rest of his features, but the light in his eyes breathes a bit of life into him. "I hate you. I hate _him_ for taking you away," Woohyun admits. He licks his lips, then continues, "But thank you. For... For finally listening after, you know, hopping from one practice room to another–"

" _Shut up,_ " Myungsoo grumbles. He gives the tip of Woohyun's tattered shoes a light kick. He ends up applying more force than necessary. Woohyun groans a bit in response.

"–for ruining _this moment_ when I'm finally admitting to being an asshole–" Woohyun holds up a finger between them as if saying nope, don't you even dare ruin this one. I'm going to kick you in the balls if you say a word. "And for pushing me to give myself another chance."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and leans back. Sunlight hits them in a peculiar manner, washes out some of the dirt marks on Woohyun's shirt, lifts the dark circles under his eyes and breathes into him a new light. And it makes Myungsoo warm. Baekhyun isn't even there beside him, still a few feet from where they are, yet he can feel the tension in his fingers easing, thawing out. This is a better look on you, he wants to tell Woohyun, when you aren't wearing a fake smile and aren't pretending that everything's perfect, but he doesn't. Instead, he gives Woohyun a curt nod and says, "Anything for a friend."

Woohyun snorts. Wiggles his eyebrows, too, as he says, "Anything?"

"Oh _God._ Just shut up, Nam Woohyun–"

"You're so _slow!_ I thought we were–" comes Baekhyun's voice, trailing off in tandem with his fading footsteps. He's about one, two feet away, close enough that Myungsoo can reach out for Baekhyun and hold his hand if he wanted to. Close enough that, if he ever feels a bit too cold, he can easily slide next to Baekhyun and let Baekhyun's warmth seep into his clothes, skin, heart. But Baekhyun's inching away, two small steps every three seconds, walking backwards while facing the two. "O–kay. I'll... just be waiting here," he says. "Soo, if you need more time–"

"No, he doesn't," Woohyun says, then pulls away with an easy smile. He digs the same hand in his pocket and waves at Baekhyun with the other. "I'll be off now. See you two around!"

Myungsoo isn't a stranger to watching Woohyun's retreating figure, isn't a stranger to seeing Woohyun walk away without risking a glance over his shoulder. But he is a stranger to this – Baekhyun giving him a gentle nudge in the arm, Baekhyun looking at him, just looking at him through the narrow slits of his bangs. "You okay?" he asks, voice soft and tentative. He worries his bottom lip. He'll end up with chapped lips again and Sunggyu will have to remind him to apply lip balm every so often because, 'As an idol, you have to lure people in. Yeah, you're gonna use your lips a lot and make them want to kiss you so use the damned lip balm.'

_Idol._ The word rings in his ears. Baekhyun is an idol. He's debuting in a few months. They're in the SM building right now and maybe it's a bit too risky to let the loud thumping in his chest control the rest of his body, but _why the hell not?_ So Myungsoo looks around, reaches over, and tucks Baekhyun's hair behind his ears. Then he curls his fingers on Baekhyun's nape, rubbing his thumb up and down the side. Baekhyun lets out the faintest, softest mewl, and he's looking at Myungsoo with an alluring gaze and a small, sleazy smile at the corners of his lips.

So Myungsoo leans over to place the softest kiss on Baekhyun's lips, brief and feather-light.

Myungsoo pulls away with trembling fingers. Baekhyun lets out a soft gasp. It doesn't quite fill the space they're in with sound, but it does ring in Myungsoo's ears. "That's... your answer?" Baekhyun asks, lips quivering. He licks them open, then worries his bottom lip. "I mean, _that's it?_ "

"Part of it," Myungsoo confesses. He drops his hands to Baekhyun's chest, then says, "It'll tell you the rest later."

Baekhyun turns beet red for a moment, and then he's giving Myungsoo's cheek a light pinch. "Oh, so you're asking me on a date now?" he asks, teasing, but there's no mistaking the cracking of his voice somewhere between 'date' and the underlying 'are you serious?'. The flush on his own cheeks hasn't waned yet, but he's wearing the same brand of confidence again in the tilt of his chin, in the way he holds his head up high, in the dip of his back, in the shape of his body. _This_ is Byun Baekhyun, SM's idol-to-be, the next big name in the world of music and entertainment. This is Byun Baekhyun, the winner of the recently concluded The Voice of Korea, the champion who won a contract with SM and was made to debut four months earlier than they'd planned.

He's Byun Baekhyun, the same man who pulled Myungsoo out of his misery, out of the darkness and into the light. The same man who's walking a few steps ahead, back turned to Myungsoo but cheeks pulled up high like he doesn't want to be seen smiling his bright and beautiful smile.

"It is, if you want it to be," Myungsoo answers. Baekhyun stops in his tracks and turns around, sneakers squeaking on the floor. "You... don't have to say yes, though, if you don't want to–"

"Yes," Baekhyun says, voice barely above a whisper. He clears his throat, then, the dissonance echoing throughout the hall. "Yes, yes, _yes,_ " he says this time, each repetition louder than the previous, and he's walking over, moving forward, inching closer until the tips of their toes touch.

"Then it's a date," Myungsoo whispers. He kicks at Baekhyun's foot lightly, then repeats, "So will you? Go out with me for dinner."

Baekhyun's mouth twists into a weird sort of smile. He's silent for a few seconds, like he's reconsidering everything, like he wants to take everything back, but soon the silence is broken by his soft giggles, tiny packets of laughter. And then the corners of his mouth pull up into a wild, wicked grin. And he's looking at Myungsoo, smiling at him, _for him,_ ignoring the weird looks of the other trainees passing them by.

"It's a date," Baekhyun answers. The smile on his lips is bright, blinding. It's the most beautiful thing Myungsoo has seen in years. "It's a date."

ミ☆

"Okay, it's a wrap!" Myungsoo claps his hands in the air and bows to the crew, then Baekhyun's staff. When he turns to Sunggyu, he offers him a salute. "Good job, everyone!"

It's already close to sundown when they finish the last shoot for spring. The redheads have already been filed back in their bags, sheets of blue gel slotted between thick cardboards so that they won't get crinkled during the packing up. Sehun's working on dismounting the Kino Flo from its stand and Jongin's disassembling the soft box. Sunggyu's walking over to return the reflector to the crew. He offers a hand from time to time, helping out with the lighting if he isn't busy talking to the SM management and sorting things out for the next slew of photoshoots.

Baekhyun has a few lined up next week – one for Codes Combine, then another for SPAO. They're still trying to work out the kinks with Buckaroo but that should also be a go. "I'd have the perfect ass for those jeans, _damn,_ " Baekhyun said one time, looking at himself in the mirror. He twisted his torso even more, accentuating the curve of his body as he stuck out his ass. He looked hilarious, but the dip of his back was nice. The way his broad shoulders framed the rest of his petite body was a nice contrast to the slope of his lower back.

"Like what you're seeing?" Baekhyun asked that time, when he saw Myungsoo staring.

Myungsoo wiggled his eyebrows at him, crossed his legs. It was more difficult when he was sitting cross-legged on the floor and the fluorescent light just behind Baekhyun was casting Baekhyun a weird, dreamy glow. "What do you think?"

Baekhyun looked around for an audience. Sunggyu had stepped out earlier to attend a meeting. He probably wasn't going to be back in the next twenty, thirty minutes. There weren't any security cameras in this particular room. So he moved closer, one inch forward for every intake of breath. Then he dropped to his knees, dropped a hand on Myungsoo's thigh, and licked his lips. Myungsoo couldn't look, couldn't shy away. "I guess I'll just have to find out."

"Hey!" comes Baekhyun's voice from behind now. He gives Myungsoo's ass a light tap, which, these days, has come to mean 'I'm hungry in the most wholesome way possible but you have a damn fine ass'. Myungsoo responds in kind and saves the squeezing for when he slips an arm around Myungsoo's waist. This should be fine, he muses. Baekhyun does it with Sunggyu and Jongin and Sehun. Sehun even sort of leans in sometimes, and whenever that happens Myungsoo only digs his hands in his back pockets as Baekhyun holds his gaze, mischief in the way Baekhyun's lips curl up in a tiny, electrifying smile. It's as if Baekhyun's saying, you can do more than this when we're alone. The two of them in a dark room, bodies pressed against each other, flushed and warm.

Baekhyun looks to his side, meeting his gaze. He looks around for a while before snaking an arm around Baekhyun's shoulders. Sunggyu's just a few feet away and Jinri might be looking at them and– "Oh? Feeling brave, are we?" Baekhyun whispers in his ear, wet and warm lips brushing against Myungsoo's skin. He blows hot breath into Myungsoo's ear and Myungsoo shivers all over. "You've never–"

"I was thinking we should... get to reviewing the pictures before we part ways," Myungsoo announces when Tiffany passes them by, throwing them a casual glance and a wave. Baekhyun waves back, calling out after her, "Jonginnie says you're looking better these days, noona!" Jongin growls at Baekhyun, but eventually realizes that he's just confirmed whatever Baekhyun said about him. 0-1 in Baekhyun's favor, or maybe 1-1 since Tiffany's chuckling and giving Jongin's cheek a light pinch. "I'm serious, though, I got a handful of nice shots for your spring concept. Hyung chose around twenty the other day so we have to–"

Baekhyun shifts in his position a little, pulling away so he can tuck his chin on Myungsoo's shoulder. He has one hand on Myungsoo's hip, his other arm around Myungsoo's waist and his warm fingers splayed on Myungsoo's stomach. His breath is too warm on the slope of Myungsoo's neck. It's prickling, _tickling._ _Right,_ very subtle. Myungsoo keeps up the image, though, holding up his camera and actually turning it on. They _do_ have at least four hundred pictures to go through and trim down to just ten, twenty photos, after all. And if they can get started on picking of the nice ones then there will be less work for Myungsoo to do in the succeeding days.

Baekhyun starts humming. This isn't the type of work environment that Myungsoo's been built for. If this were a battle then Myungsoo would be waving the flag _right now,_ two minutes into the fight. "I said, we have to _work,_ " Myungsoo says through gritted teeth. He doesn't even know if he's scrolling forward or backward now.

"But I _am_ working," Baekhyun singsongs. He presses even closer and points at the picture on the screen. His chest is warm, warmer that his hands and the rest of his body. Something else _feels warmer,_ though, Myungsoo muses when Baekhyun shifts a little. "Whoops, go back. I like that one. The one with–" Closer, even closer, then– "Yep, that one."

Myungsoo socks Baekhyun in the stomach with his elbow. Baekhyun lets out a hearty laugh but keeps saying, "What? I like candid shots! The one where I'm making a weird, goofy face looks good!" To the untrained eye, maybe it will seem like Baekhyun's just really fucking clingy and fond of sharing warmth with other people, but, _Jesus Christ_ , it definitely doesn't feel like it, not with the tent in Baekhyun's pants brushing against Myungsoo's back and Baekhyun playing with the waistband of Myungsoo's pants with his fingers.

"Baekhyun, if hyung sees this–"

"He won't," Baekhyun answers at once. Waves at Sehun and Jongin carrying the lights and saying their goodbyes. He even throws Jongin a sloppy flying kiss to make up for him outing Jongin earlier. "He went to the van to take a few calls. I checked."

Myungsoo exhales. Baekhyun shifts again, lips so dangerously close to Myungsoo's neck. "And the others?"

"Too busy packing up, cleaning up after my shit." Myungsoo twists his elbow in Baekhyun's stomach this time. Baekhyun groans. " _Hey,_ I thought you liked me! Your display of affection is so _brutal!_ "

"I'm brutal. This love isn't," Myungsoo mumbles. He looks around them. The stylists are headed back to the van. Tiffany and Jinri are deep in conversation but he can see Jinri throwing them an occasional glance. And they're out in the open. The production tent has already been collapsed. The sun is setting but there's still enough light to illuminate their pressed bodies, the tight fit of their limbs. If Baekhyun's fans caught any of this on film or camera then Baekhyun would be in deep trouble. If the management saw proof even before Sunggyu could do damage control then Baekhyun could potentially be reprimanded. SM could pull him out of the roster at the blink of an eye, postpone his debut. And by then Baekhyun would be as ripe as any old fruit – sweet, yes, but unattractive. That's the harsh reality of the entertainment industry: you're only so attractive until a certain age. And you can only be so lucky with life.

Baekhyun's hold on his loosens a little. He pulls away, about an inch of space between them, but his hands are still on Myungsoo's waist. His hands are trembling.

"Wow. Love." Baekhyun gulps hard, loud enough for Myungsoo to hear. He laughs a little. "Strong word."

Myungsoo turns around, facing Baekhyun this time. There's a good twelve inches between them. Twelve long inches, the farthest that they've been from each other on all times that they've collided. Baekhyun's always been hungry for heat, for contact, for a touch less impersonal than that of a stylist's and a bit more intimate than that of a fan's. And Myungsoo doesn't mind the lack of breathing space so much. They're a nice fit. But then the harsh reality slaps them on the face – Sunggyu calling their names as he screams, at the top of his voice, "Our van's going back to SM in a bit. Hurry up!" Baekhyun's body giving a tiny jerk like everything's just caught up to him – the fact that there are ten, fifteen people waiting for them a few meters away, the fact that they're in open space and that they've just finished a photoshoot. Who they are: Baekhyun, the SM idol, debuting in three months or less. Myungsoo, the photographer who'd signed a contract with SM despite knowing that, in some ways, he'd signed himself up for trouble by attempting to capture Baekhyun's best smile.

Myungsoo cranes his neck and yells back at Sunggyu, "We'll be there! Five minutes!" To Baekhyun, he asks, "You don't like it?"

Baekhyun drops his gaze to his feet, to where they're linked through the press of their shoes against each other. He's worrying his bottom lip. He isn't smiling. Baekhyun's pretty good at bluffing but this looks nothing like it. His cheeks are tense, his lips are pressed together, his eyebrow are in a straight line. This isn't one of those templated SM faces – this is Baekhyun's own, one he wears when he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say. When he's too caught up in the turmoil inside him to even articulate what he's feeling or even make a tiny sound.

Myungsoo's stomach lurches. His chest feels heavy; his throat, oddly tight.

"I... I'm sorry, it was an accident–" Myungsoo laughs a little. It comes out hoarse, too breathy, almost like he's croaking out sound. He remembers one of Sunggyu's pieces of advice before, that in times of doubt one should just laugh his worries away. But Baekhyun still isn't looking up. Maybe he'd judged wrongly, moved too fast. Unknowingly skipped Baekhyun's turn in the game and moved his piece on the board even before Baekhyun could grab his pawn. Took a photo of Baekhyun even before Baekhyun could cover his zits with BB cream or– "I... Look, if it bothers you then you can just forget I said it and we can go back to our normal selves and–"

Baekhyun shakes his head, just light enough to make his hair bounce a little. His bangs fall to his eyes. He looks so small now, shrunk by the darkness slowly swallowing them. The sun's almost fully set by now. But Baekhyun is still glowing. "No, I– I like it. I _love_ it. It's just that–" He lets out a long exhale. Then he bites the inside of his cheek and looks up, really looks up now, and meets Myungsoo's gaze. The sparkle is still there in the mischievous glint of his eyes, in the way he twists his mouth before continuing, "I'm an idol."

Myungsoo gulps hard. Of course. Dreams always come first. His throat goes dry even more. "Right. You're an idol," he says, chucking. It comes out rougher than he'd liked. "And there are rules that you should follow to keep your career alive–"

"But I really like–" Baekhyun lips remain parted. They look so red and inviting. The orange light softens the hard angles of Baekhyun's features. It makes him look less lethal, more heart-breaking. Beautiful, just the same. "I like talking to you. I like spending time with you. I like holding your hand and hugging you and waking up to your pretty face and– I... like... kissing you..." His words are more spaced out now, the syllables tumbling from his lips, each two, three seconds apart. He breathes the last few words out, like a knot has finally been loosened and is set to come off completely.

Don't say it, Myungsoo wants to blurt out. If you say it then there's no turning back and we will _never_ be able to undo this and–

"I... love you," Baekhyun says, voice so soft he could've just been breathing. He reaches for Myungsoo's hands, not even looking around. Just plays with it, tracing swirls on Myungsoo's palms like he means to write the rest of his feelings down on Myungsoo's skin. Every touch stings, but it's a beautiful kind of burn. It hurts a little, somewhere in the last few inches of hollow space in Myungsoo's chest, the part of him that Baekhyun hasn't conquered yet. "And I know you feel the same way, Myungsoo, I know you do. Maybe you just haven't realized it yet but–"

Myungsoo gulps hard, takes a deep, shaky breath. His fingers have turned icy cold in Baekhyun's hands. Baekhyun isn't deterred, though. If anything, Baekhyun grips them even tighter, pulls Myungsoo even closer. The orange light fades into a deep shade of black, shadows growing thick around them. He can tell Baekhyun the truth right here, right now, but what gives? They're three months away from Baekhyun's debut stage. Baekhyun has poured his heart and soul into all those months of preparation. This is Baekhyun's _dream._ He can't give this up, not for the sake of a relationship that might end up a tragedy eventually.

But there's a tiny voice inside Myungsoo screaming at the back of his head, saying, pick me. Choose me. Let me make you happy.

He bites his bottom lip hard, then answers, "But you're an idol."

"Well, fuck being an idol," Baekhyun says, scoffing.

It could be so easy to just walk away from this whole idol thing. He has enough money saved up from his five years in Red Balloon to keep him alive for the next few months. He has enough money from his freelance work to last him a couple of years. They _can_ run away if they want to. But that's not how it works, another voice in Myungsoo's mind says. Some stories don't end happily. Some don't end at all, just go on and on into a downward spiral until both characters just give up.

"We... can make this work," Myungsoo whispers. He lifts his gaze, meeting Baekhyun in the eye. "We can find a way to make this work if you want to."

And then night settles, a familiar blanket of darkness enveloping them.

"I want _you,_ " Baekhyun whispers right back. The lighting here is dim, but it's enough for Myungsoo to see the contours of Baekhyun's face, the light furrow of Baekhyun's eyebrows. Baekhyun is looking up at him like everything, like his _life_ depended on whatever Myungsoo has to say. The crew has dissolved into specks of white in the background, a few feet away. Myungsoo can't hear anything beyond the echoing of Baekhyun's voice in his ears, can't _feel_ anything beyond Baekhyun's loud, thumping pulse in the link of their hands. "I know it sounds selfish but I want you and I want to sing in front of everyone, as well. Can't I– Can't I just have _everything_ for once? It's not too much to ask, right? I make it to the top at the age of twenty-nine and I finally meet someone like you and–" He laughs, shaking his head. The last word gets caught in a tiny whimper, lodged at the back of Baekhyun's throat. Myungsoo wants to reach over, pull Baekhyun close, kiss that frown away and– "I just want to be _happy._ "

"We'll make it work. We'll find a way," Myungsoo assures him. His voice cracks somewhere in the middle, though, but he tries to swallow that down, tries to fight the other voices in his head that are telling him that they're asking for the impossible. _You're being silly. You're just setting yourself up for disappointment, Myungsoo. You never learn–_ He looks around for a while, then brushes his knuckles against Baekhyun's cheeks. Baekhyun lets out a low hum, a light chuckle. The tightness in his cheeks eases. "Now, smile for me. C'mon, give me a big smile now, just like the one you did for the shoot."

A soft sliver of laughter spills from Baekhyun's lips. It's sweeter than the previous. Still rough in some parts, but it sounds a bit more Baekhyun now, like he's finally found his voice again but he's still getting used to how it feels in his throat. "I told you, I can't do that at will. It looks and feels weird. It makes me look like some weird anime character–"

"It's beautiful," Myungsoo whispers. He looks at either side of him one more time, then gives Baekhyun's cheek a light pinch. "I think it's lovely and I love it. I–"

Baekhyun looks up at him. His eyes are searching, discerning. He tilts his head a little. He isn't wearing the scarf that covers all the scars on his neck anymore. The nail scratch and the insect bite and the bright red mark on the underside of his jaw blood a thick shade of red. Myungsoo can see them all now, flaunted in the pale moonlight for him to marvel at. And his chest constricts. He wants to map out the blooming red on Baekhyun's skin, wants to trace them with his fingers or his mouth or his tongue until Baekhyun gives into his request and erupts into a lovely peal of laughter – soft at first, then loud and overwhelming. _Consuming._ And he wants Baekhyun. He wants nothing more than to pull him close right now, to cup his cheeks with his hands and the vibrations of Baekhyun's humming in his palms.

But they're outside and there are ten, twenty, more than fifty pairs of eyes that can see them. One wrong more, and the show's over. One wrong flick of the knob and the light will overwhelm the picture, washing them out.

So he takes a deep breath and settles for this – the link of their hands, the feeling of their pulses moving to the same beat. The words finally coming to him, crawling up his throat and jumping right out of his chest.

"And I love you," he whispers. Baekhyun lets out a tiny whimper. "So please, Baekhyunnie, smile for me. C'mon, it shouldn't be too hard."

Baekhyun makes a tiny gurgling sound at the back of his throat, then he's jabbing Myungsoo in the gut, twisting his fist in the material of Myungsoo's shirt. And he's smiling. It's a slow upward pull at the corners of his mouth, his lips falling open until Myungsoo can see bright white teeth. And he's laughing, just faint bursts of laughter that fade into silence after a while because, "I don't even know why I'm laughing. I just know I look weird when I smile this way and it really feels wrong and–"

Myungsoo shakes his head and leans in until their foreheads touch. The contact burns a little, just enough to melt away the last few dregs of the cold weather in his body. Baekhyun lets out a tiny gasp, a faint 'you can't just lean in and expect me not to kiss you', and then a whimper. "If you don't pull away now, I swear to God, you'll make me something do I'll regret," Baekhyun says one more time, more as a joke than a threat. So Myungsoo holds onto Baekhyun a little longer, taking in the finest details and committing them to memory, a photograph at the back of his mind: the fit of their hands, Baekhyun's breath on his skin, and wicked smile still pulling up at the corners of Baekhyun's lips, all for him.


	5. Chapter 5

Baekhyun crashes at his place that night at half past one in the morning, too many cans of beer and bottles of soju after. The crew had a small, alcohol-less dinner somewhere, bailing out of Sunggyu's drinking invitation because they have an 11 a.m. location shoot at Sokcho-si. That meant having to ready to leave Seoul before midnight and spending nine hours on the road. It's all good, though. Myungsoo almost always prefers small, intimate dinners, after all. It also allows Baekhyun to sit closer to him than the usual, hold his hand under the table, pulling away only when he has to reach for the pitcher of water because Sunggyu's too drunk to tell the water and soju containers apart. It's almost like routine now – Baekhyun takes care of keeping Sunggyu awake enough to walk and Myungsoo takes care of the bill. Baekhyun slips inside the cab first because Myungsoo's bad at remembering addresses _especially_ when he's already had a lot to drink. Then Sunggyu stumbles inside the car, but Myungsoo makes sure he doesn't smack his head into any flat surface as he makes his journey inside. Myungsoo leans Sunggyu's head on his shoulder when Sunggyu's head lolls forward, and Baekhyun keeps his hand on Myungsoo's wrist. 'For support' is what Baekhyun would always say whenever Sunggyu woke up in the middle of the trip, asking why Baekhyun had to hold onto Myungsoo like that. And Myungsoo would only nod in agreement even as Baekhyun slipped an arm around Sunggyu's shoulder, his hand narrowly missing the jut of Sunggyu's bone and settling on the slope of Myungsoo's neck, instead.

They drop off an inebriated Sunggyu at his place first before heading to Myungsoo's flat in Ilsandong. It's common enough an activity that the humor behind tacking a sticky note that says 'pls call when you wake up, want to make sure you're alive tysm -baek and myungsoo' to Sunggyu's forehead has long lost its charm. It was funny the first few times, but at this point Myungsoo's more concerned about Sunggyu being able to make it to work the following day.

"Is it true? He really has a 10 a.m.?" Myungsoo asks as he fishes for his keys in his pocket. Baekhyun grunts in response and holds two thumbs up, all while resting his forehead on the wall just beside Myungsoo's door. "He never learns."

Baekhyun snorts. "Says the guy who almost got together with his ugly ex who always sounds as if he's singing into a _huge drum._ "

Myungsoo rolls his eyes and pinches Baekhyun in his side. "Oooh. Someone's jealous of _somebody._ "

Baekhyun scoffs. "Who, me? Nah. I'm pretty darn talented," he replies. He pushes himself away from the wall, standing on his two feet again, but his knees give away a little. Myungsoo inches closer, then, slipping an arm around his waist to pull him closer. Baekhyun falls into him with practiced ease, his head finding a nice fit on Myungsoo's shoulder. Baekhyun's not drunk yet, just tipsy at best, but he's always a bit too sleepy after a long car ride. The patch of drool on Myungsoo's shirt is a testament to that.

"Better than him?"

"Much, much better," Baekhyun replies. He leans back against Myungsoo's wall once they walk past the doorway and he quickly slips out of his jacket. "Plus, I have you. That makes me ten times better _and_ luckier and–"

"And you're really loud," Myungsoo whispers. He kicks the door closed and locks it. He feels around for the controls for the air conditioning and sets it on dry, 25, just enough to lift the heat of alcohol from their bodies. He flicks the switch for the lights open, too, just so they won't stumble in the dark anymore. The first time it happened, Baekhyun almost knocked over the desk fan in Myungsoo's living room. Baekhyun apologized to the fan and berated Myungsoo for putting it there. They ended up laughing on the floor for a good two, three minutes. Then they stopped short and asked, why were they even laughing? Myungsoo started laughing again after that, and in a heartbeat Baekhyun was kissing him and swallowing his laughter whole. "Really, really loud."

Baekhyun licks his lips. The lights finally stop flickering. They looked like pixie dust on Baekhyun's skin earlier, setting him aglow. He still looks pretty, though, with his cheeks flushed in heat and his lips too red, parted slightly in a sly grin. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

Myungsoo inches closer until he has Baekhyun backed against a wall, his arms on either side of him. From where he is, Baekhyun looks small, so small, that if Myungsoo wanted to scoop him up then he just had to envelop Baekhyun in his arms. "I have a few ideas."

Baekhyun hums. "Make my day."

A few ideas means moving even closer until he can press his lips on Baekhyun's own. He's been waiting for this – _they've_ been waiting for this, for darkness to truly settle all around them and shield them from the privy eyes of the public, for hours, for too long, _forever._ Back in the cab, when Myungsoo had already returned from making sure Sunggyu was tucked in bed with a sticky note on his forehead, Baekhyun slid his hand up Myungsoo's thigh and just kept it there, tracing dizzying circles on the fabric of his jeans. Myungsoo responded in kind, reaching for Baekhyun's nape and resting his head on Baekhyun's shoulder so he could press butterfly kisses on the underside of Baekhyun's jaw. In the elevator, Baekhyun had his fingers splayed on Myungsoo's abdomen, slid one leg between Myungsoo's own, but never quite leaned in close enough for a kiss. It was a game, a test to see who could hold out longer, stand still, waiting and resisting in equal parts. And now, here they are, with Baekhyun's throaty moans trapped in the open press of Myungsoo's mouth.

Baekhyun's hands are everywhere – Myungsoo's nape, his neck, balled into fists in his hair, then sliding down the shape of Myungsoo's body until he could rest them on Myungsoo's hips and tug on the waistband of Myungsoo's pants. Myungsoo's breath hitches. Baekhyun presses even closer, his knee brushing against Myungsoo's tenting arousal. He tenses all over and gasps into Baekhyun's mouth, but Baekhyun keeps kissing him, keeping sucking the corners of his mouth and rubbing his knee against Myungsoo inner thigh and bucking his hips into Myungsoo's own when Myungsoo kisses him deeper, sucking on his tongue.

"Fuck–" Baekhyun breathes out, his voice muffled against Myungsoo's skin. Feeling courageous, Myungsoo maps out Baekhyun's chest through the material of his shirt, thumbs just grazing Baekhyun's nipples and flicking them through the rough material until they're peaked. Baekhyun groans in response, pulling away, enough for him to let go of Myungsoo's bottom lip caught between his teeth. So Myungsoo keeps at it, flicks Baekhyun's nipples through his shirt and kisses him and swallows all of the pretty sounds he makes until Baekhyun's chest is heaving, until they could hear nothing but the loud thumping in each other's chests in the tight press of their bodies.

"Do you–" Baekhyun swallows hard, breath hitching when Myungsoo sucks a bright red mark on the base of his throat. He'll regret that tomorrow, during practice when he has to wear comfortable dancing clothes that won't cover the marks on his skin, the scars and reminders of this spring evening. And maybe Myungsoo will regret it, as well, when he meets Sunggyu's stern gaze that says, 'Are you really pushing through with this? Do you really want to put his career at risk? Are you really going to be _selfish,_ Myungsoo? Tell me now, tell me–'

"Do you want to–" Baekhyun tries again, voice steadier this time. He pulls away from Myungsoo even more, putting enough space between them to breathe, but his thumbs are still toying with the button of Myungsoo's jeans. "Can I–"

"Anything you want," Myungsoo replies, voice dropping to a whisper. He rests his hands atop Baekhyun's own and leans forward to place a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. That was how it all began, months ago, with a gesture as innocent as that, a small token of gratitude for _understanding._ Myungsoo hopes Baekhyun does. His whole body is shaking and his pulse is beating strongly against Baekhyun's skin and he _wants_ Baekhyun now more than ever, more than anything else in this world. But sometimes, the language of the body isn't enough. So he repeats, this time louder, "Anything for you."

"Okay," Baekhyun says. He slips off his shoes, shuffles them to the side as Myungsoo mimics his actions. Then he wraps his slender fingers around Myungsoo's wrist, pulling him deeper into the house, into the darkness.

Baekhyun moves around in Myungsoo's apartment like it was his own. He navigates it better in the dark than he does at seven in the morning, even with the shadows creeping up on them and the last few rays of light from the entrance slipping as they venture deeper into the flat. It's silly; he's only been here six, seven times? Half the time, he's inebriated. The other half, he's too lazy to go home and too pliant that he leans into Myungsoo's touch at the slightest contact. Yet it feels as if he's been living here forever, or he's been studying the place well enough to have its twists and turns memorized like the back of his hand.

"Room? Or couch?" he asks. The pulse in his palm skips a beat. It's almost as if it's saying, if you want to bail out then now is the time. Don't make me wait any longer, Myungsoo. Let's end this while we still can.

"I don't think you can wait any longer," Myungsoo murmurs against Baekhyun's skin. He cups Baekhyun's tenting erection through his pants and Baekhyun growls. It sounds just as sweet as his high notes, the one he belt out in his full voice and not his falsetto. "Here is fine."

Baekhyun nods and takes two steps back, guiding them to the couch. A few weeks ago, they were slumped against it, drinking beer, sharing just a platter of chips and a comforting touch. Baekhyun had vowed to make him smile again, swore to threaten him with a grin if he so much as thought of frowning. And Myungsoo said okay, why not, make my day. Let's see where this takes us. It's been working – even more so now that Baekhyun is hovering him, pulling his shirt over his head. He shivers at the cold intrusion, when the cool air pricks his skin, but Baekhyun soon gets to work and peppers his chest with warm kisses, his hot and wet mouth leaving scars everywhere it touches.

Myungsoo slips his cool fingers beneath Baekhyun's shirt. Baekhyun sucks a bit too hard on his skin. The apology comes in the form of his tongue laving over Myungsoo's sensitive skin; revenge is in the way he licks around Myungsoo's nipple but doesn't linger long enough to pay it attention. So Myungsoo balls his hands into fists in Baekhyun's hair, tugs him closer until he can feel the heavy press of Baekhyun's knee against his crotch.

"Who's impatient now?" Baekhyun asks, humming. Myungsoo can feel the warmth between Baekhyun's legs, though, can feel the light jerking of Baekhyun's body, can hear the tiny hiccups slowly spilling from Baekhyun's lips.

"Both of us."

Baekhyun snorts. He leans in until their noses touch. He's laughing, wearing the same bright smile that Myungsoo has come to fall in love with. "You're so smart. One of the reasons why I like you."

Myungsoo swallows hard as Baekhyun crushes their lips together. It feels nice being reminded that every so often. The slide of their mouths, wet and juvenile, feels nice.

Baekhyun pulls his own shirt over his head as Myungsoo makes quick work of his pants. Soon, their clothes are pooled on the floor, a tangled mess of shirts and pants much like the tangle of their limbs. Baekhyun wastes no time, taking one of Myungsoo's nipples between his lips and giving it a light suck as he flicks the other with his thumb. The dip of Baekhyun's back is a nice slope, a faint trail of moles leading his gaze further south. He wants to reach out, to touch, to touch Baekhyun, but it's becoming increasingly hard to think of anything when Baekhyun's slowly working his way down, his wet lips hovering the tip of Myungsoo's dick.

"Are you sure you want this?" Baekhyun asks again, his breath hot and prickling Myungsoo's sensitive skin. He darts out his tongue, then, when Myungsoo doesn't respond, and Myungsoo feels the light tremble of Baekhyun's fingers on his thighs when Baekhyun gives his cock another light lick at the tip. "Myungsoo, I want to make sure–"

"Yes, yes, _yes._ I thought I made it clear–" Baekhyun's eyes are aflame, focused on him. It makes his breath hitch. "Please, Baekhyun, _please–_ "

Baekhyun licks his lips, then runs his thumb along the vein of Myungsoo's cock. Myungsoo bites down a whimper, gripping Baekhyun's hair tighter. Baekhyun hums against his dick, then, lips pressed to the sensitive skin, then he's licking along the shaft and curling his cold fingers around Myungsoo's skin. The push and pull of hot and cold, the glide of the Baekhyun's lips and the light scratching of Baekhyun's teeth against his cock set off explosions at the tips of his fingers. When Baekhyun clamps lips around his cock to give it a long, hard suck, he moans out loud and bucks his hips in response, hitting the back of Baekhyun's throat and startling a gasp out of Baekhyun. And then Baekhyun's humming around his skin. Baekhyun's shaking, too; he can feel it in the tremble of Baekhyun's fingers around his cock, in the light shaking of his jaw, in Baekhyun's heavy panting against his skin, but Baekhyun doesn't stop. He sucks harder, licks even more without a trace of regret or restraint, his free hand gripping Myungsoo's balls to give it a light squeeze. It's all too much – the heat, the sensation, the attention Baekhyun is giving him, the feeling of Baekhyun's slow-forming smile magnified tenfold with the way he moves his lips around Myungsoo's cock.

"I'm close–" Myungsoo whimpers. His grip on Baekhyun's hair tightens as arousal pools in his abdomen even more, as Baekhyun works him up and works him harder when he presses his wet thumb on Myungsoo's entrance. "Jesus, Baekhyun– _Fuck–_ "

Baekhyun looks up at him, eyes no longer burning the same fire it carried earlier, but he can still see himself – wrecked and wanting – in them, even clearer than before. Baekhyun's gaze is soft, tender. His lips are gentle against his skin, no longer rough, and if he listens close enough maybe he can hear Baekhyun saying something, _singing their song_. Baekhyun laughs a little and Myungsoo's eyes widen as his release hits him like that's what does it for him – Baekhyun's gentle touch, Baekhyun looking at him like nothing, no one else in the world matters.

"I didn't know you could be so loud," Baekhyun whispers in his ear a little later, once Myungsoo's heavy breathing has slowed down and evened out. Baekhyun is still hovering him, looking at him with a fond gaze and an even fonder smile. "So that makes two of us, huh?"

"We'll see about that," Myungsoo answers. He tilts his head up, meeting Baekhyun's lips in a kiss as he reaches south to give Baekhyun's dick a light squeeze. Baekhyun lets out a tiny whimper, but soon he's melting into the touch and bucking his hips into Myungsoo's loose fist. He can feel the light trembling of Baekhyun's thighs, the frantic movements of Baekhyun's tongue tracing patterns on his skin as he jerks Baekhyun even harder, faster. Baekhyun's near, he can tell, Baekhyun's dick growing hotter and heavier in his slick palms by the minute, but soon Baekhyun's pulling away and looking at him in the eye.

"May I," Baekhyun begins, sucking two fingers between his lips. He twists his mouth a little before pulling them out with a dull 'pop'. "Is this okay with you?"

Myungsoo lets out a small gurgle and Baekhyun laughs. His cheeks are flushed, his lips so red and full and beautiful when he grins. And Myungsoo wants to see it even clearer. So he pushes himself up, twisting one of Baekhyun's nipples before giving it a light lick. "Yes. It's okay."

Baekhyun's breath hitches. "Okay," he whispers right back, the licks the tip of his fingers. Slowly, he lifts Myungsoo's legs, resting them on his shoulder to give his rim light, teasing licks. He dips his tongue inside just a little, and Myungsoo lets out a faint moan, bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from groaning when Baekhyun pulls away. Soon, Baekhyun's pushing one finger inside, stretching Myungsoo open in a slow and easy motion before sliding in a second finger. He's patient, slow and methodical in the way the thrusts his fingers in and out, careful in the cay he gently scissors his fingers inside Myungsoo. The stretch burns, feels like he's being ripped apart, but Baekhyun makes the pain bearable and pleasurable.

Baekhyun's knuckles brush against his entrance just lightly and then he's adding a third finger, twisting his hand and digging deeper in search of Myungsoo's prostate. He curls his fingers inside, careful and gentle. Another thrust and Baekhyun finds it, and a sizzle of pleasure courses through Myungsoo's veins, makes him choke on his own breath and startles a moan out of him.

Baekhyun purrs. Myungsoo's torn between bucking his hips to feel Baekhyun's mouth on his skin and pulling Baekhyun up so he can kiss him. Baekhyun gives him no time to think, though, pushes in another finger and twists his hands again, his knuckles grinding against Myungsoo's entrance this time. He feels so full and his thoughts are a mess and can't see beyond the curl of Baekhyun's pretty lips, can't hear anything but Baekhyun's soft humming. But Baekhyun keeps him in check, gently rubbing his thumb on Myungsoo's inner thigh as if saying, it's alright, I've got you, everything will be alright.

Baekhyun pulls out his fingers after a while. Myungsoo whimpers at the loss of warmth, his muscles clenching around nothing, but soon Baekhyun's pressing the tip of his dick to his entrance. "Hi," Baekhyun says in a small, small voice, lips curling up in a shy smile like he hadn't been fucking Myungsoo with his fingers earlier, like he isn't sinking deeper into Myungsoo, shifting inside him and against Myungsoo's muscles until he finds a comfortable fit. "Hi. You're really beautiful like this."

Myungsoo gulps hard. Tries to stick out his tongue in response but Baekhyun shifts inside him, surprising a gasp out of him, instead. He can feel Baekhyun's thighs shaking, can feel the sweaty slide of Baekhyun's palms on his skin, can feel the burn of the friction, but Baekhyun steals his attention when he leans forward to make their lips meet in a sloppy kiss. Baekhyun pulls out a little, and then he's thrusting back in, deeper with each movement until his dick is nudging Myungsoo's prostate. Myungsoo's lips fall open as a stream of small sounds slips from his lips. Soon, Baekhyun's singing along, whining and whimpering at the back of his throat as he moves faster. He presses a kiss to the back of Myungsoo's knee, his thigh, every part of Myungsoo that his lips can touch until he's whispering Myungsoo's name against his skin like a mantra, a prayer for which no other words exist. "Myungsoo– Myung _soo–_ " he whispers, voice throaty and rough, and then he's spilling inside him, his mouth wet and warm on Myungsoo's skin.

Later, lying down on the comforter they've rolled out on the floor, Myungsoo reaches up to trace the shape of Baekhyun's mouth with his fingers. Baekhyun's skin is still hot, soft, too sensitive, that Baekhyun shivers at the slightest scrape of Myungsoo's nail on his skin. Myungsoo can feel the goosepimples on Baekhyun's skin where his cheek is pressed to Myungsoo's chest. The wild thumping in his chest has eased, though, into a steady one-two beat. Something akin to a slow dance of two pressed bodies on the floor. "You have a really nice smile," he whispers, then pushes up the corners, poking them when Baekhyun tries to frown. "Seriously, you look better when you don't try so hard to look sexy and just act like your usual cute self–"

" _I_ try hard to be sexy? What?" Baekhyun pinches him in his stomach. He means to groan, but instead he laughs a little. He lets his face fall forward, burying his nose in Baekhyun's chest. The scent of sweat and soju is thick on Baekhyun's skin. It's addictive, sets of explosions at the pit of his stomach and the tips of his fingers. "With this body? With this beautiful face?"

Myungsoo looks up for a while, then dips his head to blow raspberries on Baekhyun's stomach. Baekhyun giggles. "Mhmm. Sexy. _Right._ " Baekhyun mumbles something about 'cute and sneaky non-believers', but pulls Myungsoo up so he can kiss him, nonetheless.

Baekhyun doesn't give him an answer until minutes after, just before he drifts off in Baekhyun's arms. They're still on the floor, more comfortable now after shifting around and draping a blanket all over their tangled limbs. "You asked," Baekhyun begins, "why I didn't want to do the big smile thing and bare my teeth." Myungsoo nods, urging him to go on. "It's pretty silly, really. I've been putting off telling you because it sounds so stupid. It's... kind of a small thing that led to a chain of events? And then everything just exploded into a mess and... here we are now."

Myungsoo laughs a little. "So you call this a mess." This, their pressed bodies, the fit of their limbs. Baekhyun's chin tucked on Myungsoo's head and Myungsoo's face half-buried in the slope of Baekhyun's neck. "C'mon, Baek, try me. I won't judge," he assures him. He gives Baekhyun a light poke on the tummy. "I'll listen."

Baekhyun takes a deep, shaky breath. He licks his lips a few times, the only sound breaking the thick blanket of silence their rhythmic breathing. "Back in primary school, my classmates would call me weird for... y'know, having this kind of smile. For smiling all the time. They thought something was wrong with me because even when the teacher would make half the class stand outside the classroom because they were all noisy and they'd put the blame on me, I'd still smile. In hindsight, it might have been really creepy, but I didn't know how else to react to things. I guess it was my default reaction to everything. To life." He laughs a little. Pulling up the corners of the mouth, his lips fall open into a boxy shape. Myungsoo has seen more interesting mouths, fuller lips, but Baekhyun's smile is one-of-a-kind. It's the type of smile that Myungsoo would be able to pick up from afar, even with the stage lights washing out half of Baekhyun's face, his features. It's the type of smile that he'd catch a glimpse of then he'd say, "Ah, I know this man. I know him. I know I'm home."

"So they'd call me a monster. Or a fake, a try-hard, the 'weird dorky dude' who spends too much time on the piano when playing the guitar seemed to be the... Ah, what did they call it? The _manlier_ thing to do, that's right..." He eases the tension on his lips and slides one hand down Myungsoo's side, settling on his waist. The other, he traces figures on Myungsoo's chest with with a single finger. He doodles all sorts of things – a smiley, clouds, swirls and spirals. A star, then a heart. "Because a boy who plays piano is a boy who gets into trouble most of the time. A boy who has piano hands and sings love songs at the age of thirteen is a strange boy."

Myungsoo snorts, then brings Baekhyun's hand close to his chest. "Beethoven published his first composition at the age of ten. He'd then become one of the icons of music all over the world."

"Well, they obviously hadn't been studying their lessons," Baekhyun says, laughing a little. It sounds strained, though, almost as if he's croaking out the sound. It sounds painful. "So I... sort of became the butt of all jokes back then, smiley Byun Baekhyun who was a great pianist and academics but was shit at socializing. From primary 'til middle school, that was the case. I mean, my parents were behind me a hundred percent but they didn't like the 'gay rumors' floating around. They didn't like it when I stayed late in school after classes even if I really was doing projects with my classmates. Didn't like it when I spent so much time on my extra-curriculars because 'what if you find out one day that you like boys more than girls? It's bad, son, it's not right.'" His voice thins into a high, female tone. Probably imitating his mom, but he sounds as if he'd just taken a kick the balls. "But at least they supported my love for music, enrolled me in all sorts of music classes. It was fun."

Myungsoo taps a light beat of Baekhyun's stomach. "There's a but there," he whispers. He sounds cynical, but it's true. There's always a catch when things go too smoothly, when the stars align and everything just falls into place. There's a special place in hell for people like them who go again a current, a place called 'uncertainty'. It's a cold and lonely place unless you know you're treading it with someone else. "There's always a but. It's not all happy endings."

Baekhyun blows at his bangs. "I had to stop midway through high school. My parents – they both work in a bank – they got caught in a bank robbery... shootout thing. Tried to save everyone before saving themselves. Dead on arrival, both of them." He pauses, drumming his fingers on Myungsoo's chest, just light beats, like he's trying to carve a message on Myungsoo's skin. "And when everyone in school started taunting me about not having parents anymore, it... felt like dying inside. You know what I mean? They kept asking me, 'So why aren't you smiling anymore, huh? Come on, Byun, give us that smile–' It was _sickening._ It was just me and my brother against all the other assholes in the world. Hyung had just gotten into college then. He almost dropped out so he could work for the two of us but he got a scholarship eventually. We... managed. His friends helped him get through college. I... I only had three friends then, all of them from the music club. Well, Chanyeol was in the basketball team as well but he hung out at choir room more often than in the gym. So yeah, I stuck with those three, all the way until college. I mean, Chanyeol and Jongdae went to different schools–"

Myungsoo looks up. "Jongdae? SM's Chen? Same guy you're collabing with for the duet?" His stomach lurches. "So that's why you two were acting too–"

"Close?"

"Comfortable," Myungsoo finishes. He bites the inside of his cheek and wraps his arms around Baekhyun's waist tighter. "Hyung mentioned about the two of you going way back and winning in The Voice but that was it. That's all I know."

Baekhyun laughs a little. "Oh, so you're interested in Jongdae now? Man, that guy's out to get _everything_ from me!"

"Not everything. Not me," he clarifies. He flicks a finger over Baekhyun's nipple. Baekhyun groans, faint and soft, but looks down at him with mischief in his eyes. It's almost as if he's saying, 'Slow down there, tiger, I'm not going anywhere.' "You were saying?"

Baekhyun twists his mouth to the side, poised to speak. He doesn't. Instead, he shakes his head and taps the tip of Myungsoo's nose before taking a deep, shaky breath, continuing his narration.

"So yeah. I... pretty much didn't have too many friends until college. It was nice, being surrounded by people who love music just as much as I do. I think it was only then that I... felt like smiling _like that_ again? But even then, I dunno, it felt so weird. There's... always the fear of being judged by people. Whenever I saw myself in the mirror grinning, I'd look away. After a while, it began to get tiring so I'd just... sort of keep it all in. Or cover my mouth. It's less troublesome that way." He drums a beat on Myungsoo's chest again, jaws locking a little even before he can speak. So Myungsoo reaches up, draws a line from the underside of Baekhyun's jaw to the base of his throat. Presses a kiss there to ease the knot of tension in Baekhyun's voice. Baekhyun yawns and lets out a soft mewl.

"I'm... sorry," Myungsoo begins. He takes a deep breath, then continues, "I shouldn't have forced you to do that before. I... If I'd only known–"

Baekhyun shrugs. "Nah, it's fine. It's been years. I should be over it by now. It's just taking longer than it should." He laughs a little, swallowing against the press of Myungsoo's mouth on the base of his throat. He leans in to press a soft kiss to Myungsoo's forehead. "I guess college just made dealing with insecurities even more difficult? There were so many great people there, great talents. It felt as if everyone was better than me. It was tough, having to duke it out with... so many great people. Pretty demoralizing sometimes, actually. Art is so fucking subjective so you can't just tell your professor that his opinion is shit and that you sing better and have cleaner runs than the one who performed before you. I didn't like that. I was done with people bringing me down. And, well, Kyungsoo shifted to multimedia arts. So I thought, why not shift to design? At least you... have something to measure your output against. You have rules there. Turns out I was good at giving people exactly what they needed. It's a skill, knowing how to twist art and turn it into something objective. And… I guess destiny just sort of led me back to music after a while."

_Kyungsoo._ The name rings a bell. He remembers seeing Baekhyun text that guy, remembers seeing the same name flash on Baekhyun's screen the first time Baekhyun stayed the night in his place. "Kyungsoo is... the friend you share an apartment with, right?"

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at his, eyes narrowing as a small smile curls on his lips. "Don't tell me you're jealous of him, too."

"Not jealous. I just want to know who your friends are."

"You sound as if you'll punch them in the face if they so much as said 'hi' to me."

Myungsoo rolls his eyes. Jabs Baekhyun in the gut, too, just hard enough to earn a yelp from him. "Don't exaggerate. I'll just trip them when they get too close to you."

Baekhyun laughs, soft and almost faint, the vibrations sticking to Myungsoo's skin. "Nah, Kyungsoo wouldn't–" He shakes his head. Baekhyun has a habit of doing that, cutting his sentences just when he's about to reveal the meaning behind it, always, always, _always_ keeping Myungsoo on the edge and wanting more. "I wouldn't touch Kyungsoo unless he asked me to," Baekhyun continues after a while. His voice trails off to a whisper as he buries his face in Myungsoo's hair.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. "And did he, ever?" He sucks in his bottom lip, then adds, "ask you to, I mean."

Baekhyun pulls away just a little, enough that Myungsoo can look to his side and see Baekhyun's features without straining his eyes. The pale moonlight makes his skin glow, softens the hard angles of his jaw and the tension in his cheeks. The smile on his lips is soft, skewed to the right, and it makes him look a bit wistful. Almost as if he wants to take back what he'd just said rephrase it so that it sounds better. True. Real. Baekhyun is a glass canon right now, and the slightest touch can break him. So Myungsoo waits, taking deep breaths as he tries to decipher the message written on the pulse in Baekhyun's palms.

"He could've, but he didn't," Baekhyun answers after a while. He takes a deep breath, then says, "It doesn't matter anymore. The ship has long sailed. I thought he'd dropped anchor but–"

"He was on another ship," Myungsoo finishes. He rests his palm on Baekhyun's stomach, then pushes himself up until they're at eye level, until all that separates their swollen lips is a hitch of a breath. "And he's long set sail."

Baekhyun smiles. "That sounds so nice. When you put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad," he whispers, then leans in to leave a soft kiss on Myungsoo's lips. It sends a sizzle of heat down his abdomen, pulling him closer until he crashes into Baekhyun again. A shipwreck, that's what they are – two ships, lost at sea, one pulling the other safely to shore, the other urging the waves of the sea to guide them, carry them home. "Maybe you can looking into writing lyrics after your photography stint. You turn tragic stories into... something less tragic."

"I used to write songs back in college," Myungsoo murmurs. Baekhyun lips are chapped again, rough. This time, it's not Baekhyun's fault. He inches forward, then, licking along Baekhyun's bottom lip. "Haven't written one again in years."

"Then let me change that," Baekhyun answers. He catches Myungsoo's bottom lip between his teeth, then gives it a light suck. "Might as well finish what I– what we started, right?"

Myungsoo leans back and takes in the sight before him – Baekhyun looking up at him with bright eyes, a soft smile that bares his teeth, Baekhyun whispering his name in circles like taking a deep, deep breath. Bright red marks on Baekhyun's skin that scream 'mine' in a loud voice. Baekhyun's touch, soft and gentle on his hips, and Baekhyun urging him to move closer, to cover him with body, to share some warmth at the height of spring. _Might was well finish what we started, right?_ Baekhyun's voice rings in his ears, so he leans in until the tips of their noses touch. "Only if you do it with me," he whispers, so soft he could've been breathing. But Baekhyun hears it, responds in the soft press of his lips against Myungsoo's own. They are writing the same song now, singing with their bodies and the slide of their mouths. The slow-forming smile on Baekhyun's lips is the chorus; the hitch of his breath, the bridge. The drumming of Baekhyun's fingers on his skin is the second vocals and the rhythmic heaving of their chests is the melody their voices blend with.

When they part, there's the faint sound of laughter bubbling on their lips. It doesn't quite match the tune in Myungsoo's head, but Myungsoo pushes that thought aside for now and just relishes the feeling of Baekhyun's soft laughter prickling his skin, scrawling words and lyrics on every part of him that Baekhyun has touched.

ミ☆

Myungsoo wakes up to the sound of Baekhyun's phone blasting an SNSD song at ass o' clock in the morning. At _five in the morning,_ he corrects himself when he sees the time on Baekhyun's phone and refocuses his vision. The sun isn't fully up yet and the room is mostly clothed in darkness, but there's enough light spilling from the windows for Myungsoo to see the important things – their clothes are pooled at their feet, they're still naked on the floor, and Baekhyun's shivering a little beside him, inching even closer for warmth. So he reaches for the forgotten blanket and drapes it on Baekhyun, making sure that he's covered from head to toe. He runs his fingers through Baekhyun's hair, then, to the beat of the song blasting on Baekhyun's phone. His body is stick, stained with sweat from last night, and he feels gross, but the press of Baekhyun's warm body to his side feels too good to inch away from.

It's awfully noisy for five in the morning. He yawns, stretching his arms overhead until he can feel his bones crack. Two, three seconds, and then it clicks – Baekhyun's phone is still ringing.

He feels around for Baekhyun's phone until he finds it on the couch where he'd unknowingly put it earlier. He reaches for it, then, and draws it closer to his face in attempt to see things clearer. His vision has always been shitty at such an early hour, so he squints, trying to make out the characters on the screen. 'Kyungsoo', the name reads. It sounds familiar. If he racked his head hard enough, maybe he'd be able to retrieve a memory wrapped around that name.

A few more blinks. Wake the fuck up, he tells himself, as the memories start to form. Kyungsoo, that guy who drove the car that Baekhyun slipped into after they parted ways at the convenience store. Kyungsoo, the guy whose message thread is always second in Baekhyun's recent Line chats. Kyungsoo, the same guy whose name is glaring at Myungsoo through the phone's screen, jumping out at him until it can claw the fatigue out of Myungsoo's eyes. He clicks the green call button at once, finally coming to his senses.

"He...llo?"

Static on the other end of the line, then a low hum. It sounds human enough to maybe be this Kyungsoo guy who's calling. Maybe it's a prank caller who'd somehow gotten a hold of this Kyungsoo person's phone. In which case, he should be waking Baekhyun up and alerting him about a potential break in in their flat fifteen minutes away. Or maybe Kyungsoo just forgot why he was calling. Maybe he's still deciding between actually saying something or just dropping the call. Because that's what's important, right? The mere fact that the person you're calling picked up, opened up communication channels so you could talk? Still, he tries again, saying, "Hello?"

He's prepared to drop the call when the person on the other end of the line clears his throat. The dissonance catches him off-guard, making him jerk back. Beside him, Baekhyun groans but buries his nose in Myungsoo's side. "This... isn't Baekhyun, is it?" the man says. A sniffle, and then, "Who are you?"

Phone etiquette dictates that the caller introduce himself first, but this is understandable. He's taking a call for a sleeping Baekhyun and he hasn't exactly talked to Kyungsoo yet. He doesn't know anything about him beyond the figure he'd seen in the car, or the man Baekhyun mentioned last night, the same guy who could've stopped them from meeting four, five months ago in the SM building had things gone differently between them back in college. So he gulps hard, swallows the last dregs of apprehension and introduces himself. "I'm Kim Myungsoo, a friend of Baekhyun's. From SM." He scratches behind his ear. The man hums again. It sounds lighter this time. "Who is this?"

"Ah, I thought he'd be there," the man says. A loud exhale, then, "This is Kyungsoo, as the name on the contact card probably says. Is Baekhyun alright?"

Myungsoo bolts up at the confirmation, snaps his spine straight and sits upright. So _this_ is how Kyungsoo sounds. His voice is low, steady, seemingly empty at the first listen but actually peppered with tiny lilts and wicked curls at the second. Or third. Kyungsoo has a nice, soothing tone that would probably sound good with an accompaniment just as mellow. Piano, maybe. He'd sound great singing with a guitar background, but the piano suits his voice better.

He takes a deep breath. Baekhyun would probably sound good singing with him.

Something burns at the pit of his stomach, much like a lurching sensation that makes his insides turn. It doesn't feel like the funny tumble his tummy does when Baekhyun smiles his way or touches him with his cold fingers but warm palms. It leaves his chest feeling tight and his throat running dry.

"Hello? How's Baekhyun doing?" Kyungsoo asks again.

Myungsoo looks to his side. The easiest answer is this – Baekhyun is naked and curled up against him, but he looks pretty warm and cozy in his position. His hair sticks to his face and there's a smidgen of drool at the corners of his lips. And he's letting out these tiny hiccups, dissonance in his rhythmic snoring. Even with the first shy rays of the sun just barely illuminating his features, he looks beautiful. Breath-taking.

"He's asleep," Myungsoo answers after a while. He traces the curve of Baekhyun's cheek with his fingers and brushes the stray strands of hair away from his face. Baekhyun makes this loud snoring noise, and Myungsoo jerks back in surprise. Then he laughs a little. "Yeah, definitely asleep."

"Sounds like it," says Kyungsoo on the other end of the line. There's the sound of tapping – pen on the table? His feet? Teeth clicking against each other? It could be anything. Myungsoo's no expert at discerning sounds. He specializes in studying people's actions, waiting for the perfect opportunity to snap a photo. And he doesn't know Kyungsoo yet. The sound comes to a halt, then Kyungsoo speaks again. "He... has an 11 a.m. practice at SM. Did he drink a lot?"

Not much. Just a few cans of beer and a couple of shots of soju. The three of them finished just two bottles last night instead of their usual three or four. They were getting older. Their tolerance was sort of getting shittier. Or maybe it was just life's way of telling them to slow down because their liver can't catch up anymore. It wasn't alcohol that shot down Baekhyun's control over his limbs; it was fatigue. And it wasn't alcohol at work when Baekhyun backed Myungsoo against the wall last night and marked the expanse of his chest with bright red scars that still sting a little until now. That was desire that he'd kept at bay for so long taking root in his body.

"Not much. And I'll make sure to wake him up at seven," he tells Kyungsoo. He stretches out his legs. Blood rushes to his feet faster than he'd like. It makes him shiver. "I'm sorry, he really wanted to go home last night but he was so sound asleep in the cab and–"

"It's alright. He texted," Kyungsoo says. If conversations with a slightly inebriated Baekhyun are anything to go by then he probably would have said, _can't drag my ass to the house anymore, kyungsoo, gonna crash @ soo's bec his place is nearer O WOW UR BOTH SOO'S_. He laughs a little at the thought, but presses the back of his hand to his lips when he hears the loud sound.

Then it catches up to him, memories of last night's conversation – Baekhyun hiding his pretty smile before his hand for fear of getting bullied around, Baekhyun suppressing the beautiful sound of his voice just so he could stay out of trouble. Kyungsoo being one of the few people who'd accepted him with open arms, silly smile and all. And Baekhyun trying his best to give Myungsoo a bright, sunny smile despite everything he's gone through, despite the ghosts of his past haunting him everytime he attempts to tug up the corners of his lips a little harder.

"I'm actually glad he crashed at your place," Kyungsoo adds. Tapping on the other side of the line again. It almost sounds as if Kyungsoo's going through a grocery list of things he wants to ask Myungsoo – what are your intentions towards my friend? What have you done to him? Why didn't you just wake him up to make him take the call? Why are you still on the line, knowing what you found out last night? "I take it you're going back to Gangnam with him? Before 11?"

Myungsoo nods, forgetting for a moment that Kyungsoo can't see him. So he says into the receiver, "I will. I promised Sunggyu-hyung I'd get him there on time," voice firm and resolute. "I'll... let him know that you called."

"And you'll let me know when you get to SM."

"That, too," Myungsoo adds. Baekhyun shifts again, resting his head on Myungsoo's thigh this time. His eyelashes flutter and he's letting out tiny puffs of air, like a dragon raring to breathe out fire. A tiny dragon. A tiny, _seemingly_ harmless dragon that might just be life's most lethal weapon against Myungsoo, breaking down his walls chip by chip, one by one. "I'll save your number on my phone. Later. After the call."

"Thanks," is all that Kyungsoo says. Myungsoo parts his lips to speak again, but all that answers him is the dial tone and a thick sheet of static in the sound.

Around ten minutes 'til half past five in the morning. He should freshen up, get started on cooking breakfast after. Knowing Baekhyun, it will be ten times harder to get anything done in the kitchen with him around. He might even screw up the stew by accidentally adding too much soy sauce when Baekhyun traps him against the counter, kisses him until he can taste nothing, no one else but Baekhyun in his tongue.

He emerges from the showers fifteen minutes after, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is still cold and wet from the shower, and with the air conditioning turned up high stepping into the living room feels like walking into a life-sized freezer without anything but a light cardigan on. Baekhyun's already sitting up, though, back rested against the foot of the couch. His hair is sticking up in several different directions and he's rubbing his eyes. His skin is riddled with goosepimples, but still flushed a light shade of pink. There's a line of hair at the base of his torso, trailing south where it disappears behind the blanket.

Baekhyun looks up at him with sleep-laden eyes and a small smile on his lips. "Good morning," he whispers. It sounds like a tiny mewl evolving into a yawn. Myungsoo's chest feels so heavy and tight and his heart is racing in his chest again. It's choking down the words lodged in his throat, pushing down everything he wants to say and, instead, leaving him gasping for air at the sight of Baekhyun.

The blankets slide further down his torso as he shifts. Myungsoo follows the path it takes, settling on the gentle swell in the white cloth before lifting his gaze back up to meet Baekhyun's eyes. But Baekhyun's distracted, eyes tracing the stretch of Myungsoo's torso and settling on his hips where the towel is loosely tied. "Cat got your tongue?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. He shakes his head. "If you're going to stay there, then nope," he teases as he saunters forward, swaying from side to side. He stops just a few inches away from Baekhyun before sinking to his knees and cupping Baekhyun's cheeks with his hands. He keeps a safe distance between them, though, three inches between their knees, six inches between their chests. The thin airspace keeping their warm mouths apart. "Man, you stink."

Baekhyun groans. "That's not a nice morning greeting," he grumbles, but the smile on his lips isn't lying. His hands aren't, either, slowly sliding up Myungsoo's bare chest until they can rest on his shoulders. His hands are too warm. His wicked grin is sizzling hot. "I'm offended."

Baekhyun licks his lips. Myungsoo shakes his head. If there's anyone between them who's supposed to feel 'attacked', it's him, not Baekhyun. Still, he apologizes in the best way he knows, pressing even closer until he can feel the rough brush of Baekhyun's lips against his. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he whispers, then places a soft kiss to the corner of Baekhyun's mouth. Slowly, he slides his cold hands down Baekhyun's sides, guiding Baekhyun to his feet. Baekhyun shivers when the blankets fall to his feet, leaving him exposed. His skin glows a light shade of pink. And Myungsoo can see it clearer now, the faint trail of hair leading to Baekhyun's groin, the tiny moles forming a strange figure on his pelvis "But I'll have to take you to the showers and get you wet in the most wholesome way possible."

Baekhyun snorts, quickly pressing the back of his hand to his lips, but soon he's dropping his hand to his side and twisting his mouth in an attempt to contain his laughter. "You're no fun," he mumbles, but lets Myungsoo drag him to the showers, anyway.

They make a mess of the path to the bathroom, backing each other up against the wall and kissing each other all over. It feels like college, or even high school when Myungsoo didn't feel the need to be so damn careful about everything single thing. It's just the two of them here, the thick steam on the glass doors of the showers shielding them from the world. He can't hear anything beyond the sound of water rushing to their feet, beyond the slide of their bodies and the tiny, pretty gasps spilling from Baekhyun's lips. Myungsoo swallows them all down – Baekhyun's soft laughter, the way he chants _Myungsoo Myungsoo Myungsoo–_ like it's the only word he knows – in the open press of his mouth when they kiss. And Baekhyun's soft humming gets trapped in the crook of his neck as they stay soaked in the showers, as Baekhyun relishes the last few hours until they have to step out of Myungsoo's flat and into the light of the day, back to reality.

ミ☆

They travel to little Sokcho-si for the summer shoot. It's a nine-hour drive from Seoul, nine long hours stuck in the same van and with the same person on either side of you. Sehun's in front of him, head tilted back and lips parted just slightly. There's a smidgen of drool on the corners of his mouth. that may or may not be bothering Sunggyu who's just beside him. Sunggyu's looking over Myungsoo's shoulder, phone lying face down on his thigh after they lost signal three hours ago, when the mountains started crowding in on them. Then there's Jongin on Myungsoo's left, forehead rested on Myungsoo's shoulder and his DS still open, blasting Fire Emblem music from its speakers. He's been waking up every ten minutes to try resuming his game, but the long drive makes it so easy to fall back into a peaceful slumber. It makes Jongin holding onto Myungsoo's arm like a bolster understandable, as well.

"He's gonna drool on you," Sunggyu whispers. A few seats away, Tiffany looks up and laughs a little, then snaps a picture of Jongin. "I'm serious, Jongin is cute when he sleeps but then he starts drooling on people's shoulders and it's–"

"He's a kid, hyung," Myungsoo replies. Jongin snuggles even closer and lets out a mewl on contentment. "Give it a rest."

"Don't blame me for your sore muscles and wet polo later," Sunggyu tells him, laughing a little. He sucks in his bottom lip, then says, "I have an anaesthetic with me, just in case."

"Thanks, hyung," Myungsoo answers. He laughs a little. Sunggyu narrows his eyes at him for a moment, then he's back to looking at the scenery just beyond the window. On the other side of him, something shifts, dead weight slowly being lifted from his arm then settling back in in a blink of an eye.

He turns to look to his right, wiggling his hand free from where Baekhyun has crushed it under his weight. Baekhyun had fallen asleep beside him an hour ago, once the sight of mountains had ceased being refreshing and foreign to people who have been living in the city for far too long. Baekhyun had just tucked his chin then, hung his head low, and the next thing Myungsoo knew Baekhyun was snoring beside him. Baekhyun could have easily just leaned his head on Myungsoo's shoulder, but they both knew where that would lead – their hands finding their way to each other, fingers finding a nice fit in the slide of their palms. Baekhyun drumming his fingers on Myungsoo's thigh and tracing dizzying circles on it. Baekhyun teasing him through his clothes, ghosting the nail of his thumb too close to his crotch. Then once they got down from the van, Myungsoo would have to find a place where he could just calm himself down, get off, or a place void of watchful eyes where he can pin Baekhyun to the wall and kiss him senseless until he could taste Baekhyun's make up on his tongue.

So they kept their hands to themselves, tried not to touch each other, tried not to sneak in kisses. But Baekhyun's head is lolling forward now, so Myungsoo rests his palm on Baekhyun's cheek and guides Baekhyun closer to him until he can bury his face in the crook of Myungsoo's shoulder.

Sunggyu's gaze flickers for a moment, and then he's marveling at the scenery again, even taking pictures of the moving picture over Myungsoo's shoulder. It's a series of clicks, one after another, as if Sunggyu's trying to create an animation of the scene unfolding beyond the walls of the van. Or maybe he's recording this moment, the way Baekhyun just _fits_ in Myungsoo's frame, so he can study it more carefully in the days, months to come. So he'll know exactly when to break them off and when to just let them be.

"He moves around a lot," Sunggyu mumbles after a while, once he's done taking photos. Myungsoo blinks, refocusing his vision so he can see the image on Sunggyu's display clearer. Sunggyu locks his screen too quickly, though, the colors of the picture fading into a thick sheet of black. "Even in his sleep. I'm surprised he's not moving much now."

Myungsoo laughs. "Maybe he's finally behaving. The SM idol training's finally paying off."

What he means to say is, there are ways to keep Baekhyun still while sleeping. One is to keep your arms draped over him and to pull him close to your chest. You'll wake up with sore limbs, but waking up to Baekhyun's sleeping face is almost worth it. Another is to keep rubbing soothing circles on his waist, like lulling a child to sleep after having cried for hours on end. And then Baekhyun's favorite – to keep running your thumb up and down his nape, your warm palm pressed to the side of his neck as if cradling him softly, gently.

Baekhyun mumbles something against Myungsoo's shirt. Myungsoo runs his fingers through Baekhyun's hair, then draws lazy patterns on Baekhyun's nape with his nail. He doesn't stop until he feels Baekhyun's weight gives away in his side again, Baekhyun's fitful snores muffled in the crook of Myungsoo's neck.

When Myungsoo looks up, Sunggyu is still watching them. His lips are pressed together, one corner tugged up in a small smile and the other pulling down. It's a weird, wistful push and pull. It's almost as if Sunggyu wants to say something but there are people around them, strangers who know nothing about what happens after Myungsoo calls 'it's a wrap!'. What happens in a makgeolli bar once Sunggyu has already had too much to drink. What happens in a cab when there's nothing but darkness pulling Baekhyun and Myungsoo together and keeping them apart. Sunggyu's fumbling with his phone like he's contemplating just texting Myungsoo whatever he wants to say, and it's silly. It shouldn't be a sin to talk about liking people out in the open.

But Baekhyun is an idol. And idols _must_ be _what_ the fans want them to be. It's sickening, the mold they have to be subjected to just to make it big in the industry. It makes Myungsoo's insides turn.

"Are we there yet?" comes Baekhyun's question out of the blue. His voice is thick with sleep and lethargy. And he's looking up at Myungsoo with the brightest smile in his eyes and a shy upward curl on his lips. "How long have we been on the road?"

Baekhyun means, how much longer 'til we have to keep holding back? The answer is forever. Myungsoo doesn't say that. Instead, he answers, "Seven, eight hours? We should be there in an hour or so."

"In an hour," Baekhyun repeats. He sucks in his bottom lip. Myungsoo's hold on Baekhyun's nape softens, his fingers trembling. "I can wait."

"Good boy," Myungsoo whispers, then gives in to the urge to bury his face in Baekhyun's hair. He smells like spring mornings and strawberry. He's a breath of fresh air after being trapped in the darkness for so long.

They get straight to business when they arrive at Sokcho-si. They won't be needing studio lights yet, with the sun up high like this, but Jongin and Sehun carry around the reflector with them, anyway, as they snap photographs along the shore. The place looked a bit lonely in the photos taken during the ocular inspection, if not really sad, but today the sky is a nice, bright blue. The sand sparkles in the heat of the sun, but still feels cool on their feet. And the sea is calm. The winds play with the surface every so often, but for the most part the boats at sea are just swaying to an easy beat.

Baekhyun blows at his bangs and removes his sunglasses. Tiffany rushes to his side, retouching his make up on the bridge of his nose. Then the wind blows, tousling Baekhyun hair and messing it up a little. Myungsoo can hear Jinri complaining a few feet away, but all the noises around him are drowned by the sound of the waves when Baekhyun meets him in the eye and smiles a little. He looks pretty like this, with his lightly styled hair falling to his face, softening the sharp planes of his cheeks.

"What," Baekhyun says. He kicks at Myungsoo's feet. Myungsoo's first reaction is to cover his lens with his palm; his second, to laugh at how Baekhyun is scrunching his nose. " _What,_ this isn't funny! Jinri's going to add more spray net to my hair. When I start sweating, the thing will get into my eyes–"

"And you'd be grimacing in the pictures. Groaning. Doing that face of yours." He purses his lips and nods in Baekhyun's direction. "The hardcore fans would probably want to see that, though. You already have fansites, right? I can imagine the captions now – 'Baekhyunnie-oppa flicking sweat out of his eyes. Ah, so handsome!'" He sounds hilarious when he thins his voice like that, high and screechy at the back of his throat, but it makes Baekhyun smile. It's worth the trouble.

He switches his camera on and tilts the lens in the direction of Baekhyun's face. Switches the mode to Program, as well. The settings are probably way off but there's no time to test exposures when he's trying to capture emotions as raw as this, when Baekhyun's shaking his head and trying hard not to laugh and not hitting him on the arm just yet, so he just snaps – one shot after another, until the smile on Baekhyun's lips turns into a look of disbelief.

"You– You–" Baekhyun hits him on the arm once, twice, thrice, and then he's slapping him on the chest. "I told you, I _hate_ it when you take pictures of me when I'm not prepared–"

But you look best in your unguarded moments, he wants to answer. He doesn't. Instead, he says "These are just test shots!" in defense, hugging his camera close to his chest when Baekhyun doesn't stop hitting him. He can see Sunggyu watching them out of the corner of his eye, can see Jinri just shaking her head and laughing, can see Tiffany holding her phone up and maybe snapping a picture of them or the body of water just beyond their bodies. It's hard to tell. There are more important things to pay attention to than two men running on the sand, trying to get even at each other while trying not to get sand and water in their eyes. They're not the only thing that matters here. And they should be working. They aren't leaving the province until the following day, two in the afternoon, but if they want to stay on track then they should get to working on the shots now.

Sunggyu steps in and Baekhyun hits him on accident. He cocks an eyebrow – at Baekhyun, for the hard slap on his arm, then at Myungsoo for not doing his job, not doing his part of the deal. "I'm going to twist your nipples if you two don't stop playing," he says through gritted teeth, as if it was a real threat. It isn't. He's still smiling, albeit stiff at the corners. And cheeks are tense, tight. It reaches his eyes and pulls too hard at where his eyes crinkle. Sunggyu looks like one of those idol masks SM asks their trainees to wear. Yet beneath the mask is the same old Sunggyu who he's known for years, the same man who'll do everything to get him out of trouble the moment he finds out that Myungsoo is in imminent danger. Myungsoo taunts him even more until Sunggyu's gripping him by his wrist and inches away from doing exactly what he said he'd do if any of them tried to ruin their shooting schedule.

And then Myungsoo leans in a little, pinching Sunggyu's nose. He pulls away just before Sunggyu resurfaces with a vengeful smile and a battle cry that sounds a lot like, "I will make you pay for this!" He runs backwards, camera pressed to his face as he takes pictures of Sunggyu running after him, of Sehun and Jongin shaking their heads in the background. Of Baekhyun a few feet away, smiling that impossible smile of his, lips falling open into a wicked grin.

He takes two, three photos of that one pose until Baekhyun's eyes find the camera. Then Baekhyun's pouting at him – snap – sticking out his tongue at him – snap – offering him a tight-lipped smile that soon blooms into soft laughter as he bares his teeth again for the camera. For Myungsoo.

They finish shooting the dry takes in a little under three hours. They move to the far end of the beach, then, closer to the waters, for the next few shots. By then, the sun isn't shining as brightly anymore, but the lighting is still pretty ideal for a summer concept. They're losing a bit of the white light, so Myungsoo instructs Sehun and Jongin to lay the sheet of blue gel on a reflector and a thin yellow cellophane sheet on another. It takes two extra pairs of hands to fix the lighting – Sunggyu with another blue gel reflector, and Jinri with just a clean sheet of white board. There's always an option to use a soft box, but there's a specific kind of effect that Myungsoo is gunning for, a certain kind of lighting that can bring out the glimmer in Baekhyun's eyes even more. Catch light on his irises to blind anyone who looked at his images. Another trick to making people fall in love.

"Tilt your head up a little," Myungsoo says, then holds Baekhyun by the chin to guide him to the desired position. Jongin shifts a little and tilts the reflector up, seeming to get it, and– "Ah, there you go," Myungsoo whispers, smiling as he traces the soft edges of the diffused light on Baekhyun's skin. There's still enough contrast between the midtones and the highlights, but it's much softer now. Shadows no longer make Baekhyun's features look too sharp. It's perfect for the summer track where Baekhyun is supposed to be inviting people to plunge into the waters with him, perfect for where the song hits the bridge and Baekhyun makes his pulling motion towards the camera and just reels people in, urges them to come closer, _just a little more–_

He feels Baekhyun's muscles shift against the pads of his fingers, hears the faint gasp that slips Baekhyun's lips. He pulls away with a tiny jerk of the body and drops his hand to the body of his camera, gripping it tight. None of it takes more than three, five seconds, but it feels as if he's been out in the sun a bit too long, long enough that he can feel himself sinking deeper into the loose sand. Long enough for five, six pairs of eyes watching them to feel more like going through an examination and coming out of it skinned alive. And he feels like shrinking to a speck of dust in the sand, feels like disappearing because if someone caught that tiny crack in his features, if someone caught the subtle upward tug on his lips or the hitching in Baekhyun's breath or that faint, faint, _Myung...soo?_ then they're in deep trouble.

Sunggyu wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his palm. Myungsoo takes another step back and tries to refocus his vision, disguises fear in him double-checking the lighting _one last time._ "I lost you, hyung," he tells Sunggyu when he notices the hard shadows in the dip of Baekhyun's collarbones. "I lost your light. Bring the reflector up a bit."

Sunggyu looks up to meet his gaze, focused and meaningful. _This_ is the warning, the gun shot, the signal that there might not have been five pairs of eyes who'd caught them, but there _is_ one that did, and that's Sunggyu's. The light cock of the eyebrow means, I'll talk to you later; the way he grips the reflector is saying, but you're supposed to know this already, Myungsoo. Get your shit together. Fucking get your shit together. One last blink of an eye, and then they're back. Sunggyu fixes the way he's holding the reflector. Myungsoo signals, "Ready, now, on 3... 2..." Then Baekhyun waltzing on his own on the sand and everyone else is holding their breaths as Myungsoo takes a picture of Baekhyun's hair dancing to the movement of his body, of Baekhyun's hands, his slender fingers that wrap around his wrists nicely, the sunlight catching on the corners of his lips and lighting up the rest of his features.

He keeps his face pressed close to the body of the camera, using it as his first line of defense for when Baekhyun turns to him with a bright smile. And Baekhyun uses this shoot as his wall, something to lean against when he feels his resolve crumbling, when Sunggyu looks at either of them to remind them that, 'Baekhyun's an idol. We're months away from his debut. You know that, right? You _do_ know what you're supposed to do, right, Myungsoo?'

He does. The heart is just stubborn when it doesn't get what it wants.

ミ☆

"Three pictures," Sunggyu says, voice cracking between syllables. "Three goddamned pictures taken on _three different occasions._ How– No, _why_ would they have something like this?"

Myungsoo takes a deep breath and blinks a few times. When Sunggyu summoned him earlier, knocking on his door four times instead of his usual three, he hadn't expected this – the once calm, collected expression on Sunggyu's features dissolving into a dark, somber look, Sunggyu's eyebrows now furrowed in a tight knot. Sunggyu clenching and unclenching and clenching his fists again until his knuckles turn a pale shade of flesh. Baekhyun sitting on the foot of the bed, legs pressed together the way his lips are pressed so thinly against his each other. Baekhyun peeking at Sunggyu through his bangs, completely silent for the first time in a long while.

"Explain this," Sunggyu demands. He hands his phone to Myungsoo, the display set to maximum brightness. It's too close to his face, the details too blown up, so Myungsoo leans back a little, inches away. Squints his eyes until he can adjust to the new brand of light. The photos are mostly dim, not the most well-lit of shots, but there's no denying the identity of the people in the pictures – Baekhyun on the left, Myungsoo on the right. A picture of them holding onto each other by the pads of their fingers, then another of Myungsoo grabbing Baekhyun's hand, caught in the act of stuffing their intertwined hands in Myungsoo's coat. And then the finale – Baekhyun's hands fisted in Myungsoo's coat, their faces merely two, three inches apart.

Myungsoo gulps hard. He looks up, parting his lips, but nothing comes out. His chest feels too tight; his throat, too dry. His mouth tastes like blood and metal and acid. His stomach lurches. And Baekhyun's gaze hasn't waned yet, still trained on Sunggyu's back, watching his every move. It's almost as if Baekhyun's waiting for the right time to speak, waiting for the right moment to explain himself. To explain _them._ But what else is there to explain? They were caught on film. The photos have been uploaded online. It's nine in the evening. If Sunggyu doesn't act quickly then these traces of evidence will reach news outlets at nine in the morning and will be released for public consumption. And then they'll be watching Baekhyun's career be whittled down to a sliver of hope, a thin, thin string before SM cuts ties with Baekhyun completely. It took Baekhyun months to earn the management's trust, to prove to them that they made the right decision making him debut ahead of Jongdae. And now it will take less than twenty-four hours to watch everything crumble in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Myungsoo whispers. Sunggyu moves closer to him. Slowly, he looks up and meets Sunggyu's gaze. He quickly regrets it when he sees the knot of Sunggyu's eyebrows, now tighter than before. "I'm sorry, hyung. It's– I didn't think–"

"I trusted you," Sunggyu begins, then takes a deep breath. He gives Myungsoo a long look, a careful gaze, as if he's measuring the exact amount of disappointment he should let Myungsoo see in his features, hear in his words. Myungsoo bites the inside of his cheek in thoughtless response. "And I trusted _you,_ too," Sunggyu continues, turning to look at Baekhyun. "I can take one picture, Baekhyun. One is okay. The two of you holding hands is fine. We see idols do that. Fanservice, the bread and butter of all entertainment agencies. But _three?_ Different locations, different instances? What are you two, stupid?"

"Hyung, there's no use pointing fingers now–"

"I'm not pointing fingers at anyone, Myungsoo," Sunggyu says through gritted teeth. "I'm not pointing fingers at anyone but myself."

Myungsoo leans back a little, gulping hard. Baekhyun looks up, his bangs fall to the sides of his forehead. He can see Baekhyun better now, without the shadows on his face shielding his eyes from Myungsoo's view, and he feels his chest constrict. The dark circles under his eyes have gotten worse without make up to help conceal them, and he looks... tired. Drained. Defeated. It's as if he's spent a lifetime defending himself and fighting villains only to fall prey to his own weaknesses in the very end. But Sunggyu looks just as weary. Together, they look like fallen soldiers who have just lost the war; apart, they look like lost soldiers whose leader has just fallen, no sense of direction nor purpose.

He takes a deep breath and takes the phone from Sunggyu's hands again, gives the pictures another look. Maybe they can make it seem like an angular play, a tried and tested photography trick. Fansite photographers do that a lot when they want to their favorite idols to look as if they're pressed so close to each other when, in fact, there's a good six inches between them. Maybe there's a way to get out of this mess, to turn things around. Or maybe this is all just a dream. They've been exposed to the sun for far too long this afternoon; maybe that screwed up their system, made them see hallucinations. Maybe–

"I'm sorry," Sunggyu blurts out. He shakes his head and shuts his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I didn't think it would come to this. I mean, I was happy to see you two getting along, getting really close. This is the happiest I've seen you in years, Soo. Baekhyun was doing so well with practice and his lessons, too, and his performance was top-notch but–" His shoulders slump forward even as he leans back against the wall, head thrown back. "Maybe I should have been more careful, should've watched you two closer. I saw the signs, it wasn't too hard, but everything was happening too fast that, the next thing I knew, you two were getting too close to each other already and it was too late–"

"You didn't fall short on the warnings, hyung. You did everything you could," Myungsoo retorts. He inches closer, reaching out to rest his hand on Sunggyu's shoulder, but flinches back when Sunggyu addresses him with a sharp gaze. "So please, don't–"

"We're all to blame, hyung," Baekhyun whispers. He stands from his seat, knees giving away a little before he's able to steady himself. Myungsoo wants to reach out, but he knows better than to make a repeat of his mistakes. Not now while the wounds are still fresh, not with a problem left unresolved. "Maybe you trusted us too much, trusted us to do the right thing. Maybe Myungsoo got a bit too carried away sometimes. Maybe we all just... thought things would work out. Wishful thinking, y'know? But–" He scratches his nape, twists his mouth, sucks in his bottom lip. "What's done is done. I knew very well what I was getting into and I should've been more careful. I'm debuting in three months. _Three fucking months._ You'd think that after everything–" Baekhyun scoffs, laughs at himself. It comes out like a wheeze, or choked coughs. He shakes his head. "Whatever. Three months. That means I– _We_ have three months to fix this and get back on track."

Myungsoo worries his bottom lip for a while. Three months should be enough time for them to clean up the mess, but media doesn't forget so easily. People don't forget things like this in a blink of an eye just because proof has disappeared from the digital space. This kind of issue with follow Baekhyun around forever, haunt him as long as the stage lights shine upon him and the platform lifts him off the ground. And he may take the secret to his grave but there will always be that one other person, a passerby or maybe one of their acquaintances, who'll remember bits and pieces of this issue – Baekhyun and Myungsoo's intertwined hands, their fit of their bodies, the very little space between their faces, their lips.

There's a thick blanket of silence for a moment, broken only when Sunggyu takes a deep breath, inhaling sharply and noisily through his nose. He pushes himself away from the wall, inching closer to where Baekhyun is. Then he plops right beside him, the cushion sinking beneath their combined weight. Baekhyun doesn't budge, only looks to his side once Sunggyu gets settled, then looks up at Myungsoo. His lips are slightly parted, as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. The message remains there, at the tip of his tongue, waiting for a clumsy enunciation. So Myungsoo walks over, trying to read Baekhyun better, digging through his catalogue of Baekhyun's expressions in his mind. None of them match this not as vacant but still lost expression in Baekhyun's features, his unfocused eyes, the wicked push and pull at the corners of his lips pulling one corner up and the other down.

"C'mere," Sunggyu says, gesturing for Myungsoo to come over. Slowly, he inches away from Baekhyun, making space for Myungsoo between them and patting the space in between. "Come on, we're in this together, all three of us. We'll fix this shit. We'll… find a way."

Familiar words, Myungsoo muses as he settles on the empty space between the two. Baekhyun snaps to his side almost automatically, like polar opposites being drawn to each other. He rests his head on Myungsoo's shoulder. Their fingers barely touch, but the slightest contact is electric, sending a sizzle of heat up Myungsoo's spine and wrapping around his neck, making him shiver. Baekhyun taps a light beat on his own thigh, each two seconds apart, as if counting down to something, _waiting_ for something. It could be anything – words of forgiveness from Sunggyu, a call from SM. Words of assurance from Myungsoo or any form of comfort that doesn't involve them touching or looking at each other in the eye long enough to see each other reflected in their eyes. So Myungsoo says, "I have a friend who can probably help us track down the source, find where the pictures went live first." Just so they can keep the images from spreading because Lord knows how fast news spreads in the digital space.

Sunggyu nods in acknowledgement and looks away, to his side. He turns his body away from the them. It's almost as if he's saying, okay, go on, do whatever you want. But once you step out of this room, out of this hotel where everyone can see you, you have to remember the golden rule. Myungsoo repeats Sunggyu's words in his head: no touching in public, no stares lingering more than five seconds. No smiles too soft that other people can see right through you. No moment of weakness. Myungsoo closes his eyes, then, and tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to Baekhyun's forehead. That's when he starts counting: one, Baekhyun's breath hitches. Two, he looks up, meeting Myungsoo in the eye. Three, they meet halfway for a light brush of the lips. Four, they pull away. Five, they're sitting upright again like the good SM employees that they are and Baekhyun's piecing himself again from when he'd picked himself apart earlier. And then Sunggyu's looking back at them with a practiced smile, tight at the corners, the display of his phone blinking on and off every other second.

"I'll have to take this," he says, then slips outside the room. When the door shuts behind Sunggyu, the soft 'click' resounding in their ears, Baekhyun only reaches over to let their fingers touch. Nothing more.

ミ☆

Sunggyu doesn't return to the room that night. Or he does, except he never really steps inside, just asks for Myungsoo's keys to his own room and whispers, "I'll be there if you need me. In the mean time–" In the mean time, let this apology suffice, that's what Sunggyu means to say, but instead he simply pressed his lips together, looked at Myungsoo in the eye and lets out a loud exhale. Somehow, it's enough, two people acknowledging each other's faults, friends who are telling each other that _hey,_ we're in this together. There's no backing out from this. We'll get through this test hand in hand. It's enough to still the storm in Myungsoo's stomach, to ease the knot in his chest a little and lift the tension from his shoulders. Sunggyu pulled away with an easy smile, just a light tug at the corners, and turned on his heel. And the Myungsoo's watching him walk away again, his footsteps fading out into the thick sheet of silence enveloping them.

Baekhyun emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His chest glistens with a thin sheet of water, droplets tracing the curve of his body. The soft yellow light softens his features, breathes color into his otherwise pale face. And his lips are parted to a tiny 'o', just enough for Myungsoo to make out the gentle swell of his lips, the soft pillow of his mouth. He looks beautiful despite the mess that is his hair sticking up in several different directions. And he looks pliant, shoulders relaxed but not quite slumped forward. He had all his walls up earlier, barriers as thick as the distance between them, too hard to permeate and break into. So Myungsoo waited until Baekhyun reached out, until Baekhyun slipped his fingers between Myungsoo's own and rubbed slow circles on his skin with his thumb. Until Baekhyun could breathe again and whisper stupid, stupid, _stupid,_ like a mantra, a constant reminder of his mistakes, a nasty scar on his cheek that will haunt him forever.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath as he takes in the sight. Baekhyun sucks in his bottom lip. "Hyung left again? he asks, not inching closer.

"He took my keys," Myungsoo answers. He digs his hands in his back pockets. "Said he'll be there if we need anything so–"

Baekhyun puffs his chest out for a bit, then he's letting out a loud exhale. "So it's just... the two of us here."

Five words. Three feet between them. One last chance to be with each other without watchful eyes following them. Both of them just a touch, a decision away.

Myungsoo gulps hard and grabs the towel Baekhyun had given him earlier, clutching it close to his chest. It's eleven in the evening. He's already contacted his friend and the pictures were already taken down. Sunggyu has already spoken with the management and media. They've already done everything they can do to prevent further damage, to allow themselves time to rest this evening so they can wake up refreshed and ready to tackle the last few scenes for the summer shoot. And Baekhyun is fresh from the shower and he looking at him, _watching_ him, head tilted to the side as he gives the nail of his pinky gentle nips. One corner of his lips is pulled up into a small smile; the other, quirked in wonder, resisting and wanting in equal parts. Myungsoo knows better than to go back to four, five months ago, replay everything that went wrong only for the two of them to stumble back into hellhole that they've dug out for themselves. They've already gone through so much trouble just trying to keep this thing alive and yet here he is, still thinking of kissing that uncertain smile on Baekhyun's lips away.

And Sunggyu had retreated to Myungsoo's room earlier to leave them alone in the room he's supposed to be sharing with Baekhyun. And he'd let Sunggyu shut the door behind himself, knowing that there are lot of things that can happen behind these closed doors. And he still hasn't left. He's still staring at Baekhyun and watching the droplets of water descend down his body and paint his skin a trail of a shiver.

"I'll be back," he whispers, then drops his gaze to his feet. He doesn't look up even when he passes by Baekhyun, Baekhyun's eyes following him like a ray of light. "Will you... still be up?"

Baekhyun nods. "I'll wait for you."

Myungsoo responds with a curt nod, then slips inside the bathroom. The sound of the waters rushing to his feet is loud enough to drown out the loud thumping in his chest.

He doesn't emerge from the showers until ten minutes after, a thick sheet of smoke enveloping the bathroom and blurring everything in sight. He slips outside, then, body shaking as soon as the cool air hits him. The room feels so small all of a sudden, where it had seemed too big with the silence so thick in the air earlier. Baekhyun's in bed now, clad in a bathrobe that slides off his shoulders and exposes his pale skin. And his eyelashes are fluttering fast, like he's trying to blink away the fatigue that has settled on them. "Hey," Baekhyun greets him, his smile soft at the corners, then slips off of the comforters, pushing them further down until they reveal the expanse of his flesh. Goosepimples crawl up his skin, creating tiny bumps, but Myungsoo moves forward so he can smoothen them, run his hands all over Baekhyun's skin and keep him warm.

He climbs onto the bed and straddles Baekhyun, his knees on either side of the latter. Baekhyun leans back, sinking into the pillows, head thrown back to expose the column of his neck. There's still a stray droplet there, water from his mostly cool hair, so Myungsoo leans in to lick it off, laves his tongue on it in tiny swirls until Baekhyun's shivering at the contact. And Baekhyun gasps, knuckles shaking where they're bumping against Myungsoo's skin.

"Hi," he whispers when he pulls away. Baekhyun sticks out his tongue at him and grips him by the waist, pulling him closer so that he's sitting on Baekhyun's thighs. He can feel the warmth between Baekhyun's legs, can feel shivers crawl down his spine when his dick brushes Baekhyun's stomach. Baekhyun rolls his hips, then, just an easy jerk enough to make the sizzling heat at the pit of Myungsoo's stomach roar to life. His grip on Baekhyun's shoulders tightens. No marks, he reminds himself, because these scars will remain with them tomorrow, long after they've willed them to fade. The blooming mark on the base of Baekhyun's neck will show when light hits him, screaming a bright red through his threadbare shirt when they start shooting tomorrow along the beach and he focuses on capturing Baekhyun's best smile. And they can't risk that. If they're caught looking at each other without the thick strings of work pulling them together, someone might snap a picture of them again. And then the string keeping Baekhyun afloat, pulling him safely to shore will snap, as well.

So he focuses on the sounds Baekhyun makes, his pretty whimpers and sighs and his soft ahs as Myungsoo grinds down, his balls grazing the length of Baekhyun's cock. His arousal is beginning to feel unbearable between his legs and he's tempted, so tempted, to touch himself with his own hands, but he pushes that thought to the very back of his head. Baekhyun's voice, rough and sinful, wrap around him in a warm flush of arousal, jerking him off in a steady rhythm as he rolls his hips, as he licks the shell of Baekhyun's ear and peppers the slope of his neck with soft, feather-light kisses, as he grinds Baekhyun to completion in the tight press of their bodies.

"Stop– Not fair–" Baekhyun chokes out, gripping Myungsoo tight by the hips, nails digging into his skin. He pauses, collecting himself, then licks his lips before saying, "I want you."

Myungsoo gulps hard and takes a deep breath. Leans in one last time to crush his lips against Baekhyun's in a rough, messy kiss. Then he's lifting Baekhyun's legs, bringing them over his shoulders until his lips are hovering Baekhyun entrance. Baekhyun's thighs are shaking, and his breathing is ragged, and he balls his hands into fists in Myungsoo's hair at the first brush of Myungsoo's tongue against his rim. Myungsoo licks again, then, tiny flicks of the tongue that are enough to send Baekhyun whispering a stream of expletives, Myungsoo's name slotted between syllables and sentences. He dips his tongue inside, stretching Baekhyun a little, then he's introducing a single slick finger, an easy thrust that makes Baekhyun gasp out a 'fuck' and groan at the intrusion. When he feels Baekhyun's muscles relax, he pushes a second finger inside, stretching Baekhyun carefully, moving in and out until Baekhyun is grinding against his palm, asking for more, asking _for him._ "Easy," he breathes out, pressing a kiss to Baekhyun's shaking thighs, then he works in a third finger, scissoring them in a slow motion, easing Baekhyun into the burn of feeling so full.

"Myungsoo–" Baekhyun whimpers, tugging at his hair. He complies, looking up, and takes a deep breath. Baekhyun's cheeks are flushed, his lips parted and wanting and begging, and he's whispering, "I need you," again and again until the tremble of his lips speaks the same thing.

"Alright," he says. He trails his hand south, stroking himself a few times, then guides the tip of his cock to Baekhyun's entrance. With a shaky breath, he pushes inside. Baekhyun clenches around him, tight and hot, and he groans as he slides even deeper. He pushes until Baekhyun lets out a throaty gasp, eyes blown wide open, then pulls back slowly. They find an easy rhythm after a while, the pretty sounds Baekhyun makes the words he can never find – a low groan means 'go ahead, I can take it', a gasp means 'I can take more'. Their whimpers muffled in the messy slide of their mouths are the songs they could be singing but have to keep to low voices, hushed whispers. Then Baekhyun digs his nails into Myungsoo's skin, breathing out, "Myungsoo–" and Baekhyun clenches around him so tight and spills his release on Myungsoo's stomach. The sound reaches deep in him, filling him with a wave of heat and pushing him even closer to the edge. Then his world goes blissfully white, the only image that's clear in his eyes the sight of Baekhyun's soft, tender eyes fixed on nothing, no one else but him.

Much later, in a mess of limbs and tangled in the sheets, Baekhyun asks, "Sing me one of your songs?" It's one in the morning and their call time is at five, so Myungsoo complies without another thought, humming a familiar tune that he hopes will be enough to lull Baekhyun into a peaceful slumber

ミ☆

At exactly nine o' clock in the morning, Sunggyu casts them a glance and nods in their direction. It says more than it should – coast is clear, but not quite; we're all off the hook but we can never be too sure– They're up against time now, trying to outlast it and put good news out there in the market for fans and media, alike, to devour even before people can remember those three pictures of Baekhyun and Myungsoo sliding next to each other, acting a bit friendlier than they should. So instead of turning his whole body to his side to face Baekhyun, he throws him a passing glance. Walks close by, just enough for their knuckles to brush. Baekhyun's hands are warm; his smile, even more. And he takes this opportunity to capture Baekhyun's sunny smile, frame it in the four corners of a photograph that will never do Baekhyun any justice. He keeps snapping pictures – of Baekhyun's bright eyes, of the way he tries to twirl on the sand but only ever ends up getting his feet stuck in the damp ground. Of the big, toothy grin that conquers Baekhyun's lips when their gazes meet, when Baekhyun looks straight into the camera and offers Myungsoo a bit of comfort through the heat of his smile, the soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes, mouths a promise contained in a single word – _later._

ミ☆

"And that's should have everything," Myungsoo says, handing Sunggyu a DVD labeled 'PROJECT BYUN' written in big, chunky characters. "The edited pictures, the behind-the-scenes ones... There should be a couple of videos, as well, one of each season. There's more of the first two, though," he explains. Autumn and winter, when he still knew nothing about Baekhyun but knew that there was trouble brewing at the pit of his stomach. Spring was when Baekhyun started to smile with his teeth more. He has three albums just for that. He has some in his phone, as well, stored in a secret folder for when he's yearning to look at Baekhyun straight in the eye and not through his lens. And summer– Summer was when Baekhyun used his smiles as a currency for comfort. And it was effective – the management loved the last shoot the best and even commended Myungsoo for it. It was the very reason they pushed for Myungsoo to do Chen's debut shoot, as well, even giving him free reign over the concept and giving him an opportunity to pitch his ideas for the music video.

And now, here he is, emptying out his laptop, cleaning out traces of Baekhyun so he can make room for new projects, new opportunities that might help his career blossom. Things that can help him move on. He has a back up of everything in his hard drive, but it's still different having pictures of Baekhyun within reach, just a click away. It's still different holding Baekhyun at an arm's length and knowing that if he leans close, Baekhyun will be there to meet him halfway and make their lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss.

Sunggyu runs his index finger along the spine of the case, then turns to Myungsoo with a smile. The fatigue is evident in the dark circles under his eyes, in the strain on his cheeks. Baekhyun's down to the last three weeks of preparations, after all, starting the day early for radio appearances and heading home late after a long night of practicing. Sometimes, he'd make a stop over at Myungsoo's place, stay there until three in the morning until Kyungsoo drops by from work and picks him up. Other times, he'd head straight home, snap a picture of himself with his bottom lip jutted out in a tiny pout. And Myungsoo's okay with that. He'll take whatever he can get if it means keeping both Baekhyun's career and this relationship alive. It's better than nothing. It's better than just watching Baekhyun perform on stage through a TV screen, wishing yet knowing that he could never be there, backstage, to greet Baekhyun after his performance with a tight embrace, a warm smile, a soft, stolen kiss on the corner of his mouth as he says, "You killed 'em out there, tiger. Keep it up. Keep shining."

"It's finally over, huh?" Sunggyu says now, laughing a little. It sounds rough, a bit choked. He sounds tired. There's still the dregs of relief in his voice, though, in his steady humming as he swings his legs on the bench. "Those eight months of prepping felt like forever. I don't know why but it... never felt this long with the other artists I handled? SHINee's promotions always felt a bit too short. Even their breaks felt like they could use a bit more time. A few days, give or take. And then the girls… Well, they hardly had any time to rest, but it always felt as we were in a rush. Even when they were still starting out, man. Even when they were still rookies." Sunggyu locks his arms behind his back, stretching, then lays his palms flat on the bench. "I… kind of miss it, though, the prep chaos."

"Well, you _did_ raise him," Myungsoo comments. He inches closer, and Sunggyu clasps his hands together, resting them on his thighs. Myungsoo shifts, then, until their sides press against each other, Sunggyu's warmth seeping into his skin. It's a bit comforting. "Watched him grow. He _is_ your kid. I know you watched those two other groups develop into these fine… adults, I guess, but Baekhyun's… on his own. Taemin, Minho, and Kibum could look after each other, but Baekhyun needed your guidance."

Sunggyu snorts. "I was a shitty dad."

Myungsoo nudges him in his side. "Just not as strict as you'd like to be but, hey, you're not too shabby."

"Thanks, I guess," Sunggyu mumbles. He swings his legs again, humming a small tune under his breath. It's Baekhyun's summer track. Myungsoo likes the spring song better. The winter ballad, too. They bring out Baekhyun's rich tone more, showcase his vocals better. They allow Baekhyun to shine without the heat of the summer track setting him aflame, burning him to cinders. "The whole thing was just… overwhelming. I never realized until yesterday, you know, when I was fixing his schedule for the next three weeks. Debut, man. _Debut._ It's like… giving birth."

Or maybe the death of something else – free time, social life, privacy. He doesn't say it. Instead, he comments, "Well, I guess you can call Baekhyun a pain in your, uh, non-existent uterus."

"Or just a pain." Sunggyu rubs the underside of his nose, sniffling. His body hasn't quite adjusted to summer yet. "Yeah, 'pain' should be enough. He's a pain in the ass, the neck, the balls–"

Myungsoo laughs a little. 'Pain' doesn't suffice, doesn't quite capture the extent of what they all did and had to give up. They did four big shoots spanning seven months, turned the first few weeks of winter into autumn just to make the first shoot happen. Baekhyun was practicing almost everyday, until the whee hours of the morning, polishing one track after another until his vocal chords know no other words but those that he has been singing. Myungsoo had to follow a set schedule to be able to manage too many freelance projects on top of his project with SM. And Sunggyu had to be there for both of them throughout those seven months, had to make sure they didn't screw up, had to make sure that Baekhyun will debut with an untarnished, untainted name at the ripe age of twenty-nine but still achieve the same success as those who debuted at a younger age.

They definitely screwed up the last bit, Myungsoo muses. He snorts. "A pleasurable kind of pain," he adds after a while, looking at Sunggyu in the eye. Sunggyu cocks an eyebrow at him, holding his gaze. "The type that you'll coming back to for more."

"You're crazy," Sunggyu tells him, laughing lightly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's shedding his fatigue with each movement, the smile at the corners of his lips lighting up his features even more.

"So I've been told," Myungsoo whispers. He looks in the direction of the door, his chest constricting when he catches sight of Baekhyun stepping inside the room. His heart does a little somersault in his chest at the same time that Baekhyun stutters in his steps and looks at him with wide eyes. "So I've been told."

"He–y," comes Baekhyun's greeting, barely above a whisper. His lips fall open into a small 'o', and then he's biting his bottom lip like a habit. Myungsoo wants to tell him to stop, stop doing that, you're always getting your lips chapped and hurting yourself, but some habits are just hard to break in the same way that eye contact as strong as this isn't easiest thing to look away from. They hadn't seen each other the whole week last week, after Sunggyu alerted them about media trying to dig up stuff about Baekhyun again. The same thing happened the week after the photos leaked, but they were quick enough to delete all traces of any of their 'funky activities', as the management lovingly put it, even before media could try to get a hold of them. Baekhyun's fans – BYUL, that's what they call themselves – also helped them, swore to SM and to Baekhyun, himself, to protect their favorite artist at all costs. It felt nice, having a support group like that, but at the same it felt like walking a tightrope. What was once a secret between the two of them has become a heated topic being kept from the privy eyes of people. What was once a language only they shared has become a code for Baekhyun's fans to act and act fast, a signal for them to try to protect Baekhyun from people who might want to pull him down.

Myungsoo lets out a long exhale. It really is different, having Baekhyun around. It's different having Baekhyun _here,_ just a few steps away, wanting and willing and breathing the same air as he is. And it feels different seeing the slow-forming smile on Baekhyun's lips again, feeling it make the hair at the back of his neck stand up and send a sizzling sensation to the base of his spine so powerful that he shivers all over. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself in check – one, Sunggyu is in the room. Two, they're in SM premises and they _both made a promise_ to not fuck things up again. Three, Baekhyun's debuting in three weeks. He needs all the time he can get to practice and polish his routine. So he addresses Baekhyun with a small smile, a curt nod, and a soft, "Hello."

Beside him, Sunggyu snorts. "You can hug, you know," he whispers, then shifts in his seat so that he's facing the wall. "I'll just be here, typing on my phone," he adds, voice trailing to a whisper, and the next thing Myungsoo knows Baekhyun's scooping him in his arms, burying his face in the crook of Myungsoo's neck, murmuring 'wow' against his skin again and again.

"Wow _what?_ " Myungsoo asks. "Wow, you're really sweaty and you stinky?"

"Asshole," Baekhyun mumbles, twisting his fist in Myungsoo's stomach. His knuckles dig into Myungsoo's flesh. It feels great. He feels alive. "I mean _wow,_ I–"

Myungsoo chuckles, then presses a soft kiss to the back of Baekhyun's ear. Baekhyun shivers, knocking his knees into Myungsoo's own. Myungsoo is shaking all over, but then so is Baekhyun. "I know," he says, breathing out against Baekhyun's warm skin. "Me, too."

He stays for the next three rounds of Baekhyun's practice, sitting cross-legged on the bench with his chin tucked on his clasped hands. He studies the movement of Baekhyun's body, the twist of his torso, the way he slides from one side of this massive stage to another like it isn't big enough. Like he's dwarfing it with his presence until the stage becomes one with him. Like he's always been meant to be here, lighting up the dull room with his dance and breathing life into it with his song.

_Three weeks._ In three weeks, Baekhyun will be center stage, singing in front of a crowd of thousands. Three weeks after that, he'll be winning awards and the hearts of people. Three weeks will turn into three months, and three months will turn into three years. Soon, Baekhyun will hopping from one country to another, riding the tides of fate and his career, and it will be hard to keep up with him. He's a shooting star, after all; he should never be tied down. So Myungsoo contents himself with this: watching Baekhyun from the sidelines, marveling at him. Memorizing every flick of the wrist, every tilt of his head, every flutter of his eyelashes and the tiny shifts in his expression like Myungsoo hasn't spent all these months committing them to memory and scrawling them on his own skin. He keeps his eyes trained on Baekhyun until they burn, until he can see Baekhyun still singing and dancing and _performing_ at the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes, long after Baekhyun has ceased to move.

Until Baekhyun slips back into the darkness with him and holds his hand, standing still for the first time in so long, whispering instead of belting out his words. Speaking in silence and the language of their bodies – Baekhyun's lips on Myungsoo's own, their limbs in a tangled mess, hearts racing in their chests in a rhythm so familiar that they can call it their song.

He slips from the room unannounced, as soon as Baekhyun drops the imaginary mic in his hand to his side. He steals one last glance at Baekhyun before twisting the door knob and swinging the door open. The last thing he hears is Baekhyun soft 'oh?', the shuffle of Baekhyun's feet like he means to run after him. The last thing he sees is the gentle lift of Baekhyun's eyebrows, the soft pillow of his mouth. And the last thing he catches is the promise of good things to come in Baekhyun's simple words, in a sentence he doesn't even have to sing to make beautiful – _Soon. Soon._

ミ☆

The week before Baekhyun's debut, Myungsoo receives a text from Baekhyun that says, _hi sorry haha i'm in the hospital._

His first reaction is to tense his thighs under the table. His second, to read the message again. Baekhyun's never been the type to pull off a tasteless prank like this on anyone and April Fool's is long over, but who knows? Maybe Baekhyun's feeling a bit weird, feeling a lot like an asshole. It happens to everyone. On Baekhyun's best days, he says the best jokes, can make even the most serious and tired of people smile with the gentle coaxing of his words, his playful tone, his cheery nature. On his off days, he tells Myungsoo he feels like dying with every passing minute because, "I'm going to debut. In a week. A week! I'm not even sure if I'm even ready–"

"You alright, Myungsoo?" Dongwoo asks, guiding Myungsoo's cup of coffee back down on the saucer. Myungsoo blinks twice – the first time, at Dongwoo, and the second, at his shaking hands. "You look as if you've... seen a ghost or something."

He looks down at his phone one more time, then lifts his gaze to face Dongwoo again. Better, more professional. He tries to lift the corners of his mouth, but all he ends up with are tense cheeks and a dry through. "I'm good," he answers after a while, then quickly types up a reply on his phone. _what happened? which hospital?_ "Where were we?"

Dongwoo gives him a long and careful look as if he wants to ask more, doesn't want to stray from the newly opened topic just yet. He doesn't. Instead, he nods, slow and deliberate. "Deadlines," he responds. He moves the tablet so that it's facing Myungsoo. "We'll be done in five minutes."

He could have already hopped on the first cab to Gangnam Severance by then. If Baekhyun was in Gangnam Severance, at least. He could be three, four stoplights away from his current location by that time if he asks the driver to drive as fast as he can. Baekhyun could be wailing in pain by that time, could be minutes away from losing consciousness and whatever else that Myungsoo doesn't want to think of at the moment, if at all. Baekhyun could be–

"Or even just a minute," Dongwoo ammends. He clears his throat. When Myungsoo looks up from his phone just before it beeps, he's met by Dongwoo's warm smile. "I understand if you need to be elsewhere right now. I'd... drop everything if anyone ever asked help from me. And that looks like an emergency." He drums his fingers on the table, missing a bit when his fingers lock. "Is someone in trouble? Family, a friend?" A tentative pause, then, "Your... girlfriend?"

He sneaks a glance at the display, then, almost groaning when he sees Baekhyun's text saying, _overfatigue :((( dont worry hyung's here wid me but he wont let me text anymore so i'll c u? room 313?_ Trust Baekhyun to make a misstep caused by his thirst for perfection just seven days before he walks up on stage and starts building a home out of it. And trust Baekhyun to try to make the situation lighter by using smileys, by using that messaging tone of his that sounds exactly like the voice he uses when he's trying to get out of a tight situation.

_i'll be there. get some rest,_ he types in a haste. To Dongwoo, he says, "Boyfriend. And I can spare a minute. Let's get this done before the turn of the hour."

Dongwoo's eyes widen for a moment then he's chuckling, lips pressed to the back of his hand. Too familiar, a voice at the back of Myungsoo's mind says, and suddenly he's brought back to three seasons ago, to that afternoon at the cusp of winter and autumn where he had to make a most unfortunate trip to Gangnam to visit an old friend. And to gain a new one who'd soon be more than just an acquaintance. Someone who'd eventually be a person who knows him better than he knows himself.

So when another voice at the back of his mind groans 'don't do that', Myungsoo isn't surprised. People should never be deprived of the leisure of a smile or laughter. Still, he doesn't say it, doesn't say a thing until Dongwoo's offering him a soft smile, warm and accepting.

"Very brave. I... know people who wouldn't readily admit that to a stranger. Or a client." Dongwoo chuckles. Then he's pushing his coffee cup to the side and inching even closer, urging Myungsoo to meet him halfway so he can see what's written on the tablet better. "Alright. Let's agree on the timings then I'll drive you to wherever your boy is."

"No need to, sir. Gangnam's pretty far from where we are–"

"Nah, it's fine. I don't think I'll be able to let you grab a cab in that state of yours." Dongwoo chuckles. "Okay, timelines! Let's do this!"

Gangnam Severance is a good hour and a half away from the quaint coffee shop they were at back in Ilsandong. They were lucky to not have been trapped in heavy traffic, but the long travel still leaves Myungsoo with a consuming lurching sensation in his stomach. His chest feels so tight and his stomach feels as if it's panicking on his behalf. And he's long lost the feeling in his fingers. He sits on his hands in an effort to restore the warmth at its pads, but to no avail. Every minute away from Baekhyun right now feels like torture. It feels a little like dying inside.

_i'm going to kick u in d balls,_ Myungsoo texts when they reach another red light. Baekhyun is quick to reply – two stickers of the same white blob crying _then_ making a heart sign with its hands. Then a message, saying, _sry but hey on the up side, i'm forced 2 rest!!!_

_stupid. u didn't have to wait for this to happen :(,_ Myungsoo types. He hits the send button then quickly bites down on the back of his hand when he realizes what he's just done. Tells himself, he doesn't have to hear that from you, Myungsoo. Everyone's probably told him that already. You didn't have to rub it in–

"He'll be alright," Dongwoo assures him, humming. Tracing figures on his own thigh, he says, "I know how it feels, worrying about someone... that special. And if he's still texting you then _rest assured_ that he's probably well enough to, y'know, fiddle with his phone. And that he won't want to see you like that."

'Like that' probably means 'a mess'. He pulls his shoulders back, then scrolls through his stickers absentmindedly. He catches sight of one that might make Baekhyun smile. He clicks it without another thought, then adds, _sorry i'm just really worried... pls get some rest i'll be there soon._

"He keeps doing these weird, risky things," he whispers out of the blue. He doesn't bite the back of his hand this time, doesn't bite the inside of his cheek so he can swallow his words down. He breathes out, exhaling all the breath he's been holding in for the longest time. These moments of surrender come to him sometimes, on the off chance that control slips from his fingers and he lets panic take control of his body. When he's tired and can't be bothered to keep the fatigue at bay. He kicks at the carpet inside a little, just a little, enough to jolt warmth back into his feet. It makes his knees shake. He still can't feel his hands enough to clench them. "He keeps thinking of other people before himself. Keeps trying to... meet other people's expectations and putting himself in danger in the process. It's not healthy."

"But it makes him happy, right?"

Myungsoo laughs a little. He shakes his head. It's a nice way to look at things, a nice mentality to have, but sometimes being happy just doesn't make the cut. "Not everything that makes you happy is good for you, though. Some are bad," he then says. "Some are _wrong._ Some will just put you in danger. Some might, I don't know, screw your life over." And some might score you the risk of losing your job and losing every chance of ever becoming an idol. Some are just... a disaster waiting to happen. And that's what they are – two big storms coming together as one, wrecking everything in their path. Leaving scars on the roads they take and on each other's bodies. Bathing in bright lights until they're washed out and shielded from the rest of the world. They are the disaster that wasn't supposed to happen.

"So you look out for him. Make sure he doesn't get into any more trouble when you're not looking." Dongwoo cracks his neck. "Sounds easier than it actually is, but there's not much you can do, is there? When you're with someone as free-spirited as your guy?" He takes a deep breath and slumps in his seat. Myungsoo shifts a little. This is the first time he's seen Dongwoo like this. Then again, it's the first time they've talked about something outside of work, talked about a topic that isn't remotely related to Howon. "So when you get to the hospital, give him a hug or something. Then bop him on the head for overextending himself."

The second is easy to do. The first is, too, if they weren't Baekhyun and Myungsoo, if SM didn't know about their little tryst and didn't read into every single thing that they did. He blows at his bangs. "I wish it were that easy," he whispers.

Dongwoo snorts, then scratches the arm rest. "That's the catch – nothing's ever easy with these kinds of things."

Myungsoo looks to his side, holding Dongwoo's gaze. The soft smile on Dongwoo's lips is still there, albeit tighter now at the corners. Strained, but still present. Still warm despite the air conditioning set on high. It's almost as if he's speaking from experience, trying to talk to himself over Myungsoo's dilemma. Shooting two birds with one stone. Over Dongwoo's shoulders, Gangnam Severance's facade comes into focus, the blur of colors from when they'd been speeding down streets earlier finally coming together to form a crisp picture. And then his phone sounds off twice, two short beeps urging him to tear his gaze from Dongwoo and to look down, _look at me– Look, Soo, I can finally do the pirouette thing in one fluid motion– Look!_

"And yet we still hang around, hoping for an easy path to the ending," Myungsoo finishes.

Dongwoo snorts. Presses his hand to his lips again, but eventually just lets the thick lump of laughter spill from his lips in one loud peal. Myungsoo finds himself laughing along after a while, the tight knot in his chest finally coming off and easing. He can feel his fingers again, can feel the rest of his faculties above the loud thumping in his chest. And he can feel his phone buzzing in his hand, Baekhyun's Line window jumping out at him, waiting to be noticed.

The scenario is different when he reaches room 313, though. There's none of the usual noise in SM, none of the chatter and the harmonizing and the squeaking of rubber shoes on the floor. The room is mostly quiet, the voices inside hushed and kept low. And Baekhyun's on the hospital bed, craning his neck to check who the visitor is over Kyungsoo's shoulders. "He's been waiting for you," comes Kyungsoo's greeting, soft and faint, almost as if he's just breathing. "And I hope you brought cake with you because he's been going on about that for _hours._ "

"You're in luck," Myungsoo replies, holding out a box between them. Kyungsoo swings the door open, then, welcoming him with a smile.

Baekhyun lifts his eyebrows as soon as Myungsoo steps inside, eyes widening just a little upon recognition. Then a familiar smile plays on his lips, tugging up at the corners just a little, enough to make his eyes crinkle a bit. "Hey," Baekhyun says, voice rough and faint. He sounds like a frog, or maybe a kid who's been running miles without pausing for a break, to drink water. Baekhyun _would_ be the type. He'd be the type to do something as silly and fulfilling as that. "Where's my kick in the balls?" he manages to joke, but it doesn't ease the roughness of his voice, doesn't make his laughter any less choked. His chest must feel so heavy right now. And Myungsoo would run his hands over Baekhyun's chest, rubbing a generous amount of Vicks on it to help alleviate the pain if he could.

But he can't. Kyungsoo's eyes haven't left him yet since he entered the room. The guy beside Kyungsoo is looking at him with a funny stare, as well, one that says, 'Oh, so _you're_ Myungsoo.' And then there's Jongdae with his back pressed to the wall, looking up from the sheets of paper he's scoring lines on with his nail. And Sunggyu's watching him – _them_ – like he's reminding each and every single one of them that they entered a contract, they all made an agreement, a _promise_ to not screw things up again.

"Later," Myungsoo replies. He inches closer, one careful step after another. The smile on Baekhyun's lips grows wider by the minute. It has nothing to do with the wild grin on his own lips, nothing to do with this exchange that only the two of them will be able to understand. "When you get discharged. I'll give you a really good kick that'll last you a few days."

"But I'm debuting in a week."

What he means is, I'm fine with that but you _will_ kiss the pain away, right? Myungsoo licks his lips. Baekhyun sucks in his bottom lip. They look like teenagers flirting with each other, it's almost hilarious. He wants to laugh. "One that will last for twenty-four hours, then."

"Heartless," Baekhyun groans, but pats the empty space beside him, anyway. Sunggyu inches closer to the foot of the bed, then, making enough space for Myungsoo and looking away.

"Thanks," Myungsoo whispers to Sunggyu just before he climbs onto the bed and makes himself comfortable there. Baekhyun reaches for his hand from under the covers. The pads of his fingers are cold, too cold. Baekhyun could draw icicles on the back of Myungsoo's hand if he wanted to. If they are allowed to. _Rules, rules,_ Myungsoo keeps reminding himself, and shushes the voice inside him saying, I wish I could just be heartless. Then, it would be easy to stop caring.

Baekhyun shifts in his position a little, sitting up. He combs his fingers through his hair like it makes a difference. It doesn't. Baekhyun is still Baekhyun, disheveled hair and all. It's a nice contrast to the perfect idol SM has molded him to be. So Myungsoo snorts and reaches over, ruffling the soft tuft again. Baekhyun's hair feels so soft between his fingers. It almost feels like home.

"I really hate you," Baekhyun whispers, blowing hot air on Myungsoo's palm. He's looking at Myungsoo through the narrow slits of his bangs, leaning into the soft touch like it's the only thing keeping him afloat at the moment.

"And I hate you, too," Myungsoo whispers right back. He catches Baekhyun's smile spilling from the corners of his lips. Somehow, that's enough.

When Baekhyun asks him about his day, how the meeting with Dongwoo went, 'That's mocha cake, right? If that's chocolate mousse, _I'm_ kicking you in the balls,' he indulges him, nods and talks and lets Baekhyun hear the words he truly wants to say. He keeps them slotted between empty sentences, though, slips them between mundane things, harmless information that he knows Baekhyun can see through. And he keeps his eyes on Baekhyun long after Baekhyun has fallen asleep, Baekhyun's lips parted in a tiny, tiny 'o'. The soft snores he makes are the best song Myungsoo has heard in a long while.

ミ☆

"Hey, Myungsoo, I–" Kyungsoo gulps hard, then says, "Can we talk?"

Myungsoo looks up from where he's feeding bills to the vending machine. He'd offered to grab a couple of drinks earlier – 3 packs of banana uyuu for Sunggyu, strawberry uyuu for Kyungsoo. Chilsung cider for Baekhyun for when he wakes up, just in case, and Pocari Sweat for Jongdae who's set to leave in a few minutes to return to SM. Kyungsoo offered to help, but Myungsoo said he'll be alright. He's gotten more drinks for more people before, when he was still in production. That doesn't seem to be enough to shake Kyungsoo off, though, whose eyes always look as if he's studying something so hard until there's nothing to be discovered anymore. It feels like being skinned alive and examined on the spot but oh, I'll put back your skin after, don't worry. It's a bit unsettling.

"I... got your order right, if that's what you're concerned with," Myungsoo replies. He turns his attention back to the vending machine, then presses the button for Chilsung cider. Baekhyun will probably be whining about Myungsoo getting him just one drink when he sees it. He tries not to laugh. "You _did_ ask for strawberry uyuu, right?"

"It's about Baekhyun," Kyungsoo blurts out.

Out comes the can of Chilsung cider, landing in the take out port in a loud 'thud'. Just like the person who likes it, Myungsoo muses. He fishes for the can from the compartment and sets it down on the floor beside the canned coffee. He remembers Baekhyun getting him one like it before, when they were out of coffee shops to hide in and Myungsoo was in dire need of his favorite drink. 'Don't complain,' Baekhyun said then, thrusting the can in his chest. 'It's the least sweet among the bunch. I... I'm pretty sure you'll like it. I wish I could get you some of your... quality coffee or _whatever_ but–'

"What about him?" Myungsoo asks. He feed another won bill into the machine and presses the button for Pocari Sweat. He should be getting back to the room now, handing over the bottle to Jongdae before he goes back to the company for practice, but– "Was he… looking for me again?"

"I'm sorry about the… whole hiccup," Kyungsoo whispers. He's shifting his gaze from Myungsoo's face to his hair, like it's the most unsettling sight ever. Or maybe he just can't look at the guy whose house he picks up Baekhyun from at odd hours of the day. Myungsoo runs his fingers through his hair, nonetheless, parting it at the sides. Baekhyun has always liked his hair better that way; middle parts are a big no-no, even for Jaejoong who can rock almost any hairstyle. "Really sorry that it has to happen to the two of you. I mean, if he wasn't an idol and you weren't… quite the popular figure in photography–"

If people weren't looking up at them, at the stage, and watching them with a careful gaze, if people didn't _know_ them then it wouldn't matter. But they are who they _are_ – Byun Baekhyun, the winner of The Voice of Korea, and Kim Myungsoo, one of the most renowned photographers in the industry. They could've dropped each other at the first sign of a controversy, could've dropped this relationship or this ounce of trouble that they keep drinking up everyday. They could've easily stopped seeing each other, texting, sitting next to each other during shoots or in the van.

But this is a decision that they've made. And they're ready to face the consequences even if it means having to be constantly on their toes, if it means having to be extra paranoid about everything.

"Shit happens," Myungsoo mumbles in response. The vending machine gives a funny whirr. He looks over his shoulder to face Kyungsoo again. Kyungsoo's eyebrows are furrowed a little and his lips are pursed. The fluorescent light casts him a sickly glow. It doesn't do him justice. He'd look better with a small smile on his lips, the same smile he gave Baekhyun earlier when Baekhyun teased him about panicking and dropping everything at work 'for his best friend.' "We're... trying hard to make things work. It's just ten times harder for him because he's the one in the spotlight all the time. He's the one who has fans following him around and–"

"And you're the one who's always just waiting around the corner, waiting for the right time to pull him in your direction." Kyungsoo lets out a long exhale. He scratches his nape with a single finger. Myungsoo wants to laugh a little. Baekhyun leaves scars, pieces of him on every person he touches. Always giving part of himself without asking for anything in return. "I guess it helps that you have perfect timing."

Myungsoo snorts. "I try. Very hard." He tries hard not to reach out for Baekhyun at the first sight of him, as well, tries to keep his hands to himself even if Baekhyun's looking at him, giving him all his attention and everything that he can offer save for his words. "I... keep wondering if he'll ever get tired of this, actually. It's draining. He has a lot of other things to worry about and–"

Kyungsoo chuckles, just barely above a whisper. "And you're the only person keeping him sane and happy at the moment," he says, then walks closer, stopping just before the tips of his shoes hit the drinks neatly lined up beside Myungsoo. He's still, too polished, too rigid. His words are soft and tender, though. "I'm not a believer of being reckless but Baekhyun makes it work, somehow. So if I could... just ask for a favor–"

Myungsoo picks up the drinks and cradles them in his hands. Or at least that's what he tries to do, because Kyungsoo has already beaten him to taking some of the drinks. Kyungsoo is eyeing the strawberry uyuu in Myungsoo's arms with great interest, and then he's looking up at Myungsoo again with a weird kind of spark in his eyes. It isn't the same spark of curiosity he'd seen from Kyungsoo when Kyungsoo first dropped by his place to pick Baekhyun up, or the look Kyungsoo had given him when he opened the door of the hospital room. This one's more personal, tender. A tiny ray of light peeking through the layers of the much brighter sunshine.

"What is it?"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. "Can you look after him?"

Myungsoo leans back a little. He tilts his head to the side, cocks an eyebrow at Kyungsoo because _is he kidding right now?_ They all know the rules – Myungsoo can't be around Baekhyun for too long, not out in the open. They can't look at each other for longer than five, ten seconds. They can't be breathing the same air without supervision, else the management will think they're up to something 'funky'. They're well aware of the rules. And here Kyungsoo is, asking for the impossible. Looking after Baekhyun means watching him with a careful eye, being around him 24/7. Looking after Baekhyun means breaking every single rule in the book and causing trouble all over again.

So he doesn't hold back, blurting out, " _What?_ " He laughs a little, the sound spilling from his lips like bouts of cough. He cracks his neck. "I don't know if you've forgotten but SM _specifically asked_ for me to be assigned to non-Baekhyun projects so the media would stop bringing things up about us–"

"But they won't be able to say anything if you're following Baekhyun as a fan," Kyungsoo finishes. He lifts his eyebrows a little, then offers Myungsoo a tiny smile. "Not if you're helping Baekhyun reach fans who can't see him on stage. Not if you're helping other fans fall in love with him and giving SM more profit through promoting him." The smile on Kyungsoo's lips blooms as he hugs the drinks closer to his chest. "They won't touch you if they can't see you in the crowd, Myungsoo. They _won't_ find you in the dark."

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He's good at moving around in the dark, good at finding his way to all the right places with the shadows whispering in his ear, telling him where to go. And he's good at waiting for the sun to come rising again, to peek from the horizon and slowly crawl back up the skies so Myungsoo can look around him and say, ah, that's right. I'm home. So he nods and lets the laughter that has long been pounding on his chest to crawl up his throat, to spill from his lips. To reach Kyungsoo and to pull him closer until Myungsoo can dump the strawberry uyuu in his waiting arms.

"You're Baekhyun's favorite for a reason," Myungsoo whispers just before they reach the door to Baekhyun's room.

Kyungsoo looks up at him with a twinkle in his eyes and a bright smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Not me. _You,_ " he replies, swinging the door open for Myungsoo, to reveal Baekhyun's smiling figure on the other side. Myungsoo doesn't argue. Instead, he steps inside without another word and thinks, maybe it can work. Maybe he can trawl the darkness in search of a sliver of light, a speck of Baekhyun even if the stage lights have already washed him out. Maybe he can be a creature of the night and live in the shadows as he watches Baekhyun take the stage and conquer the world. Maybe _they_ can make this work.

He rests his palm on Baekhyun's hand through the blankets. Baekhyun grins at him, bright and toothy, and mouths, "Feed me." It lights a tiny flame inside him, stilling the lurching sensation in his chest, keeping him warm.

It's worth a shot.

ミ☆

Myungsoo blinks a few times, adjusting his vision to the lights. It isn't as bright here in the studio as it was outside with summer's bright lights blinding him and the rest of the fans waiting outside, but it still takes a while to recalibrate. He lined up for a few good hours, after all, spent half the time listening to Baekhyun's debut album and the upcoming new single on repeat and spent the other half talking with the fans who'd lined up with him. "Aren't you too old to be a fan?" one of the girls asked, and Myungsoo only shrugged in response.

"Here, have some water," Sunggyu tells him now, handing him a bottle. He slips a press ID around Myungsoo's neck, too, flips the card over so that everyone can see the word 'media' in big, bold characters. "You ready?"

Myungsoo gulps down a generous amount of water, then laughs a little. The tension in his throat eases a little. "Is he?"

Sunggyu cranes his neck, gaze shifting to the stage, to the narrow opening of the curtains shielding the set from the viewers. To the familiar face peeking from between the sheets _and then_ disappearing behind them when the cheers of the crowd starts to grow louder, wilder. The stage isn't lit up yet and the crew is still doing some last minute checks, but the recording should start in around ten, fifteen minutes. That means fifteen minutes until a familiar song blares through the stereos, fifteen minutes until the lights open, bright and harsh, and wash people out on stage. Fifteen minutes until the thumping in his chest harmonizes with a familiar beat.

"He's been pacing around the dressing room, but he'll be alright," Sunggyu replies after a while. He chuckles. "You know how he is."

"I do," Myungsoo whispers. He takes a deep breath and grips his camera tight in his hands. "I know him too well."

It's Baekhyun's debut stage today. He was supposed to perform at Music Core yesterday, as an introduction to the whole industry and the rest of the country, but SM somehow pulled him out at the very last minute and told him to focus on his Inkigayo stage, instead. Go out with a bang, leave a lasting impression, they said. Capture's people's hearts and keep them hooked until there's nothing but _your_ voice ringing in the ears. It's every rookie's mission when they start out, but the pressure on Baekhyun is bigger, heavier. He has to make sure to get a solid fanbase today. If he manages to win a mutizen on the day of his debut, with all the promotions SM has been doing for him even before he could make his first music show appearance, then great. There's hope for a happy ending. He has to make a good enough impression that people will disregard his age and focus on his talent, instead. He's running on a timer. If all goes well today then he can hope for a good three, four years ahead of him in the music industry. If the variety show hosts end up loving him after his guesting on Wednesday then maybe he can shift to hosting once his singing career gets shaky. So these few hours of the music show are vital. If Baekhyun wants to make it big in the industry then he can't fuck up.

Myungsoo's stomach clenches, lurches. He lays his palm flat on his own belly, trying to still the sensation inside him. He remembers Baekhyun doing that when he can sense the tension in Myungsoo's features, in his actions. And he'd do the same for Baekhyun once Baekhyun comes home from practice, when Baekhyun lies flat on his back on Myungsoo's couch and whispers, "I ache all over. Kiss the pain away?"

The lights on stage flicker open. Sunggyu's body gives a tiny jerk, jostling Myungsoo out of his reverie. "That's my cue," Sunggyu whispers, then gives Myungso's arm a gentle squeeze. "You'll be alright here?"

What he means is, you know what to do, right? You _do_ know that the SM reps can't find out you're here, right? So Myungsoo nods in acknowledgement and flashes Sunggyu a thumbs up. "I'll live."

"Break a leg," Sunggyu mutters, then he's walking ahead and disappearing into the crowd. The shadows swallow him whole, along with the words Myungsoo had uttered just after Sunggyu had turned around to leave – _I'll need all the luck I can get._

Five minutes thin into the the crackling noise of the lights and the shrill screams of the crowd. There isn't anyone on stage yet, but everyone knows who's up first. The song that's been playing in the background for the past few minutes has been whispering the same name in their ears again and again. It's the same song Myungsoo has been singing to for the past eight months, the same song that wakes him up in the morning and the same voice that calms him down, lulls him to a peaceful slumber at night. It's the same voice at the back of his head telling him to get ready, _any minute now, Myungsoo, any minute–_ And then the yellow lights go out as the background noise dissipates into silence.

Five thumping beats. A voice counting to three. Spotlight on the stage, on the figure turned back to the crowd, and Myungsoo lifts his camera close to his face. He shifts to autofocus and puts everything on program, as if functioning on autopilot. Stimulus to a slow and simmering sensation he's been harboring at the very pit of his stomach all these months finally burning the brightest flame and setting him on fire. Then he cranes his neck, trying to get a glimpse of the figure on stage, clothed in light. He's glowing up there, overpowering the lights, _shining._

Baekhyun turns around, the microphone drawn close to his lips. "Are you ready to fall in love, Inkigayo?" he screams, and the crowd yells back in response.

Baekhyun looks around, giving the crowd a quick scan with his gaze. Myungsoo pulls his camera down, then, but keeps his hands steady on the body and the lens. Baekhyun's eyes widen for a moment – in surprise, recognition? In acknowledgement of the wild, violent pull at the corners of his lips, revealing his peculiar smile? In defeat? Myungsoo isn't sure. All he knows right now is that Baekhyun is looking at him and no one else, singling him out in the crowd, offering him a wicked grin. And maybe those perceptive enough will see that sliver of connection pulling them together, that thin string keeping them tied to each other, but that doesn't matter right now. Baekhyun is on stage, shining for everyone to see, living his dream and sharing it with everyone in room. There are six, seven feet of people between them, keeping them apart, keeping them in check.

They're safe. They can make this work. They _will_ make this work.

"I said, are you ready to fall in love?" Baekhyun screams again, grinning wider this time.

Myungsoo nods and takes a deep breath. The music starts, and Baekhyun pulls away with an easy smile.

The performance lasts for a good seven minutes, with Baekhyun giving everyone a taste of all four songs in his debut album. Myungsoo keeps his face pressed to the body of the camera, looking at Baekhyun only through the viewfinder even long after the music has died down. He snaps pictures, one after another, of Baekhyun bowing to the crowd, of Baekhyun waving to his fans and thanking them again and again. Of Baekhyun reaching out to hold the hands of the people at the first row and telling them to please support me, please keep my dream alive. You're all my stars. Thank _you._

Of Baekhyun slowly turning his head to look for him in the crowd again, of the way his features light up when he spots a familiar figure in the chaos.

Of the open-mouthed smile Baekhyun aims at his direction, eyes fixed on nothing, no one else but Myungsoo.

He gulps hard and signals at Baekhyun with a thumbs up. He smiles. He doesn't stop shooting.

 

**「 overexposed 」**

Baekhyun makes a comeback to the music scene after a three-month 'break' with a rock ballad.

"It's pretty fresh. Doesn't sound as SMP as you'd think it would be," Jonghyun comments on his radio program right after the second commercial gap. Beside him, Baekhyun laughs into the back of his hand and shakes his head, murmuring something that doesn't quite reach the microphone. Maybe Baekhyun's saying something about 'SMP' being an SM-only term, or SM no longer having a single 'sound'. The composers _have been_ trying to come up with fresh material for a few months already, after all, trying to break free from the stereotypical SM music.

Myungsoo rolls his eyes and leans back, inching away from his laptop. The video stream lags for a bit. He takes it as an opportunity to text Baekhyun, _good luck. slay them :)_

_lol what else wud i do? ;),_ Baekhyun says in reply. Then the video's running smoothly again, revealing Baekhyun getting up from his seat and heading to the other side of the booth for his live performance.

It's been nine months since Baekhyun has hit the music scene as SM's 'old rookie'. Music critics were a bit skeptic at first, saying that he 'might not make it as such an old age', 'his career will probably die too quickly,' but he managed to prove them wrong two weeks into promoting his album. He didn't win the mutizen on the first week, but his digital sales were the best SM has seen in years. It's almost as if SM convinced the fans of their other groups to support Baekhyun's foray into the music industry, promising them good things to come.

Well, this is it, Myungsoo wants to say. This is Baekhyun sharing his gift of music with the world, SM's way of thanking fans for all the support they've given him. And it's also SM's way of thanking Myungsoo for staying at the sidelines, making sure that the light doesn't reach him. It's SM's way of helping them make this whole arrangement work.

"You co-wrote this song with a friend, didn't you, Baekhyunnie?" Jonghyun asks now, speaking into the microphone.

Baekhyun fiddles with the controls for a moment, then wears his headphones. "Come again?" he asks, so Jonghyun repeats his statement, drawling the syllables for 'friend' this time around. Baekhyun's first response is laughter; his second, a careful glance around the room before craning his neck to look straight at the camera filming their live broadcast.

"I did," he replies. He draws the microphone closer to himself, then clears his throat. "I wrote it with a very special friend."

Jonghyun looks as if he wants to say more, but the first few notes of the song have already surfaced in the background. The percussion and the electric guitar come together in a nice introduction, powerful enough to capture someone's attention at the first beat. The music thins to a soft drumbeat after a while, then Baekhyun's vocals settle in, smooth and easy, as if he's just breathing the lyrics. His eyes are closed and he's swaying from side to side, a small smile pulling up at the corners of his lips as he sings. He looks completely in his element, lost in his own words and his own song. And maybe he is. This is him sharing his – no, _their story_ – with everyone, millions of listeners tuned to Jonghyun's radio show. This is him taking a calculated risk.

So Myungsoo takes the leap with him, fixes his eyes on Baekhyun as the camera zooms in on Baekhyun's face. Keeps his eyes on Baekhyun as Baekhyun opens his eyes and looks into the lens again, making sure Myungsoo can see him.

Myungsoo takes a deep breath. He can feel a small voice crawling up his throat, begging to be heard. He parts his lips.

He sings with Baekhyun.

**Author's Note:**

> ミ☆ To everyone who has reached the end of this fic, thank you so much for taking time to read it! I cannot thank you enough. c:
> 
> 1\. The title comes from [a song from Prince of Tennis of the same title.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRQwVdKRJeQ)
> 
> 2\. You'll notice here that the call time is different from the 'grind'. The 'grind' is actually the time when the shoot starts. Ideally, you should have two hours between call time and grind to give time for the crew to set up and for the stylists to work on the talents.
> 
> 3\. Redhead and Kino Flo are two different kinds of studio lights. [The redhead](http://www.cinelight.com/tungsten-lights/open-face-lights/redhead-800-watts) is a nice, flexible yellow flood light. It has doors that you can adjust in order to fill the set with more or less light. You can attach a honeycomb to it to make the light more focused. You can also attach different types of color sheets/gels to it. The most common is the blue gel, one that neutralizes the harsh yellows of the redhead to produce white light. Note, however, that the light redheads produce is very, very hot. This is why it's preferred to have a soft box/diffuser attached to it.
> 
> Meanwhile, Kino Flo is a brand of white lights. Softer and 'cooler' than the redheads, they are great to use if you don't have a soft box or a diffuser as they still neutralize the harsh yellow lights of the redheads pretty well.
> 
> 4\. The song that Myungsoo and Woohyun composed is Paolo Nutini's ["Candy"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OswTSTffutI).
> 
> 5\. The song that Baekhyun sings at the end, the one that he says he and Myungsoo composed, is Dashboard Confessional's ["The Secret's In The Telling"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PyjCi6wBEg).
> 
> 6\. And [HERE](http://8tracks.com/dongsaengdeul/there-is-a-secret-that-we-keep) is a playlist I made for the fic! I really, really recommend listening to this playlist while reading the fic. :)


End file.
